


The Truth of the Once and Future King: Arthur Pendragon

by ValentineDevil



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, Alternate Universe, Camelot, Fantasy, First Time, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-07 03:34:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 39,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4247766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValentineDevil/pseuds/ValentineDevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've all heard the story: how Arthur Pendragon, son of the tyrant King Uther, vanquished all in his path with the aid of his fellow knights. How Merlin, a young sorcerer, born with magic, helped the young king achieve great things. How Merlin served Arthur, and how they formed an unbreakable bond. How their friendship was so strong, that they were unbeatable. You've probably also heard how Arthur married the love of his life: a lonely black smith's daughter named Guinevere. And how you must of heard of Arthur's corrupted sister, Morgana, and the terror in which consumed her. And of course, Arthur's end: the druid boy Mordred.</p><p>How wrong you are. You know nothing.<br/>The stories you have heard are just that: stories. Now, let me tell you what actually happened, for I know more than anyone. For I am...<br/>Emrys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Red.

So much red.

Blood thick and pouring from the entrails of civilians. Arrows embedded in one of the victim's eyes. Others have deep gashes or gaping holes in their chests from iron or steel. Many would assume this was a side effect of war, but they would be wrong. In fact, it was the result of the young Prince Arthur's weekly hunting trip. Where he and his knights felt insulted when one of the farmers couldn't spare his only daughter to entertain them. Merlin -better known as Emrys in legends- gazed upon the site of the tragedy. He was a young boy also, only sixteen and yet he had witnessed much bloodshed already. Merlin ran a hand through his black hair, which was also covered in a scarlet liquid, but not his own.

“Father!” he pleaded, keeping a hand on the open and gushing wound on his father's chest. Balinor's brown eyes were wide as he stared up at his son, his only offspring.

“You shouldn't have got involved, father!” Merlin exclaimed, as tears welled up in his own, ocean eyes. Balinor merely blinked, slowly, one last time and whispered something Merlin couldn't make out. And then, as his son held him, Balinor took his final breath while Merlin cried...deep heart wrenching cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork by the amazing 'theheartofme33'- http://archiveofourown.org/works/4319958


	2. Chapter 2

Two dark winters had passed before Merlin left the village of Ealdor, his home. His mother -stricken with the grief of losing her husband- took her own life, leaving Merlin a mere note in her now permanent absence. Brown and tear splattered the paper was, the ink had barely dried in the time it took for her to write her message to Merlin, and kill herself.

_Merlin,_

_You will always be dear to me, but I cannot live in this world any longer._  
I am far too sick and tired to joust with the devil any more.  
Besides, you have out grown my uses,and I fear there is little more I can do  
to help you, my son. But, within the castle of Camelot, there is a  
physician named Gaius. Go to him, for only he can guide and protect you.  
Be weary Merlin, for none must know of your gifts.  
I will love you, eternally.  
You are destined for great things, remember that.

_Hunith_

Merlin clutched the paper in his right hand, leaning on the table for support with the other. He felt his life collapse around him for the second time. Now an orphan, what was Merlin to do? How could he ever allow himself to love someone if they would only be taken away from him? Head hunched over, he let a single tear slip, before he straightened up, snatched his over-used bag, already packed, and began the exhausting walk to the gates of Camelot.

People had already begun to suspect something was wrong with Hunith and Balinor's skinny, high cheek boned son. Many times unexplainable events occurred when the boy was near, such as objects moving without reason and sudden fires. He was a witch in the eyes of a significant proportion of the village. It was only a matter of time before they threw him to the flames. Merlin was glad he didn't have the stares of suspicion as he strode through the legs of overbearing trees. Walking briskly he found a strange white mist consume him, for he couldn't see further than his out stretched hand.

“Tsk...this cannot be happening” he muttered, annoyed at his own unluckiness. He stumbled over an old oak tree's root, breaking the sole of his muddy thin boots. He would have sworn, but he was too preoccupied with the beauty of the white stone walls of the largest castle he had ever seen. _This must be Camelot_. He thought, for what else could this be but the most godly kingdom of King Uther Pendragon. With the mist cleared up, it was easy for Merlin to glide down the green hill to the entrance of the citadel. Passing two guards with shiny metal plates -which gripped to them like a baby to its mother- he asked one where to find this Gaius. He got no reply. The man merely glared forward, his eyes never leaving the hill peak. His orange, rugged beard spilled out of his helmet as he finally stared at Merlin, whom had yet to turn away.

“Floor three, find the tall staircase near the east wing” spoke the other guard, his voice deep and fierce.

“Thanks” Merlin turned and nodded at the second guard, pulling his beige jacket closer to him, for the sun had fallen and he was more than desperate to sit by a warm fire and gulp down some vegetable soup. When he finally arrived at the doors to the physician, Merlin felt anxious to meet the man who he would be sharing the next several years of his life with (hopefully), learning about how to control his magic and how to keep watchful eyes at bay. Merlin let go of the breath he didn't realise he had held, and opened the rotting wooden door, which squeaked at the hinges.

“Hello?” Merlin called, finding a large room with long tables filled with bottles of mixtures and remedies. Tall bookcases aligned the back wall, packed with herbal science, anatomy books and others Merlin didn't understand. He seemed out of place in the colourless room with his blue shirt and red scarf- his favourite item of clothing. He also wore skinny brown trousers, made from an old blanket which he father found while scavenging an empty cart, the driver having been killed by one of Arthur's war games.

“Can I help you, boy?” a voice croaked. An old man, perhaps in his 60's, appeared from a second door. Walking down a few steps, the old man almost stumbled but regained his posture easily. Merlin took a moment to take him in. The man wore an a rouge robe and a blue non-hooded cloak which dragged on the floor. Merlin noticed white shoulder length hair and a clearly receding hairline. The man had a hard look plastered on his face, his wrinkles ageing him further. And yet the old man's skin was not nearly as pale or dirty as his own.

“I'm Merlin, Hunith's son. She said you would look after me. She told me to come here” Merlin explained. Wondering if his mother even asked Gaius if it was alright to send her boy to him.

“I see” Gaius looked Merlin up and down, questioning his existence, or perhaps he was also wondering if Hunith told him about Merlin. “Well, you are most welcome here. In fact-”

“Did my mother tell you about my gifts?” Merlin cut him off, although rude he didn't want Gaius to get himself into something he wouldn't be able to escape.

“Your...gifts?” Gaius looked quizzically on.

“I ha-have magic” Merlin stuttered on the words, he had never actually told anyone of his powers, and yet he felt secure in telling this man. Gaius's face remained neutral.

“I'm glad you told me, Merlin. But with your powers, why come to Camelot? Any form of sorcery is banned here”

“Because I need help, and I have no one else to turn to” Merlin sighed, exhausted and dwelling on the fact that he might have had a wasted journey.

“Well, it looks like you're stuck with me then” the old man chuckled, and gave Merlin a smile warmer than a burning flame.


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin found himself with a clean set of clothes and a made up bed for him to slide into, after eating some tender chicken and a mixture of vegetables, which Gaius had prepared thoughtfully. This was to be his home now, Ealdor was suppose to mean nothing to him, and yet he felt everything for it. Merlin put his head over a bowl of water and splashed his face with the cool liquid, letting out a gasp as the dirt was lifted off his cheeks and forehead. He took a moment to ponder at his father's last words. _What were they?_ He thought as he clasped his hands together at the back of his head, stretching. He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time, and collapsed onto the ever so soft bed. He hadn't even bothered to take off his jacket never mind if he had changed into his night clothes.

“Home” Merlin whispered as he let his eyes lids fall, into a deep slumber.

 

That morning, Merlin awoke to knocking at his bedroom door, and Gaius calling out to Merlin for him to get up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and decided he better get into something...less mucky. And so he slithered out of his old clothes and replaced them with a blue shirt and red scarf -the fabric of which was slightly frayed at the edges- and stepped into some dark brown trousers, all from his bag. His eyes then flickered as golden lights for a mere moment, and his broken boot from the day before was mended in an instant. He put his boots on, scraping off some of the mud, and walked briskly into the main room with the elixirs and books.

“Ah, he awakens” Gaius smirked, handing Merlin a piece of bread, who took it with great appreciation. “Eat up, we're off to the court”

“Hmm?” Merlin paused mid bite to give Gaius a questioning look. “I'm coming with you?”

“Of course. You are now, technically, my assistant. I must make some use of you” Gaius spoke, already heading out the large door. _For an old man, he certainly can move._ Merlin considered that for a moment, before following Gaius down the twirling staircase. The castle was stimulated with the dozens of bodies busy with their daily tasks, of washing or baking, of guarding or training. It felt more alive than anywhere Merlin had been before, but yet he had not travelled anywhere but a few miles from Ealdor. The corridors were long and cold, and yet they were warm with hospitality, people were welcomed here, except, if they had magic.

“Hurry, boy” Gaius said, a stern tone to his voice. Merlin hadn't realised that he had fallen behind, too preoccupied with observing the open lands and citadel outside the square windows which were situated along the outermost walls. When they finally arrived at the court room, knights of Camelot were gathered around the edges, along with the King's advisers, awaiting the royals to arrive. Merlin stood by Gaius near the front of the group, just in time to witness the King, Uther Pendragon enter the room. He was a tall man, strong in the arms, and yet his posture hints that he can barely hold himself up. He walked with a slight stumble and had a large scar on his forehead which came down towards his right eye: a battle wound of a great war won. The king had little hair, most likely due to stress, it is said that he never recovered from his wife's death, when she gave birth to his son, Arthur.

The prince walked boldly behind his father, a proud posture- but deadly. And when the pair stood at the front of the room, turning to look at their people, Merlin couldn't help but gawk at the fine young man. At first, Merlin felt utter hatred for the man, who killed his father, and yet, that faded when their eyes locked. Blue eyes staring into each other's depths. Merlin took in his appearance, for he had never actually seen the prince, the future king, before this day. His hair was golden and floppy, to match his shining complexion. His shoulders broad and his arms muscular to emphasise his firm chest, the prince obviously devoted his life to the art of combat, for even his aurora was frightening and forceful. Arthur looked away the second their eyes met, disregarding Merlin as a harmless newcomer, and yet, even Arthur felt something stir inside him, as Merlin did. _Who is this man?_ The young prince asked himself, for he wouldn't dare ask the court.

Merlin didn't want the meeting to end, he wanted to watch Arthur intently, unlike the prince who couldn't wait to be out of the room, and vent his frustrations onto his knights with battle-axes and shields. The room begun to burn with orange light as the afternoon came by, signalling that the courtiers could disband. The king and his son were the first to exit, closely followed by the nobles, and then finally, Merlin and Gaius, but not before Arthur glanced back at Merlin, wondering if he would ever hear his voice. And so lucky the prince, for Merlin thought the same.


	4. Chapter 4

That evening, Merlin thought about Arthur and the conflicting emotions that have so suddenly risen about him. How could Merlin like a man who's a cold blooded murderer? 

“Look lively, boy” Gaius beamed, sensing something was off with the young sorcerer.

“Sorry” Merlin apologises, giving Gaius a half-hearted smile, as he continued to stir his soup which he had no intention of eating. Living in such a poor village as a child, his stomach was small and his muscles were weak, small boned but slightly taller than the prince who was practically the opposite from Merlin. The prince was healthy, and it showed in his glow. Merlin thought about Arthur for a moment, remembering how the future king almost caught Merlin gazing at his arse as Arthur walked out the court room. If Merlin could, he would kiss every inch of that spoilt brat's skin until it bled. He imagined looming over Arthur, making him scream for more.  
Merlin shook his head, he couldn't have these thoughts, let alone the feelings that came with them. Besides, it could never work between them, they were too different, and Merlin was sure they walked on different paths. And so with that Merlin thanked Gaius for the food -which he hadn't eaten- and retired for an early night's rest.

 

That night, Merlin barely slept. He tossed and turned but to no avail. He didn't understand why until he opened his eyes to find a blue glowing orb pulsing in thin air. Merlin jumped onto his feet, in shock from seeing such strange magic, and magic it surely was. Instantaneously, the orb began to move, slow at first, grabbing Merlin's attention before it quickly passed through the door to Merlin's room. He followed the orb into the main room where Gaius snored far too loudly. Quietly -with great skill- Merlin tip toed towards the orb which hovered at the other end of the room. Merlin had learnt such talent as a boy, when he had to steal food in order to help feed his family, acting as a shadow often helped in that particular trade, that and magic. The orb spun around Merlin before darting out the main door and stormed down the stairs, Merlin walked with haste. 

_Where is this thing taking me?_

Before Merlin knew it, he was outside the castle and passing unexpected guards. The orb seemed to glow brighter as it flowed further away from the castle grounds, away from the burning torches which gave light to men. Into the forest, deeper and deeper until it suddenly disappeared. A quick snap of a twig was all it took for Merlin to lose his curiosity and fear began to set in.

“Hello?” Merlin called, praying that both someone and no-one would answer. 

“Emrys” the voice chuckled. Merlin tried to pin point its location, but darkness surrounded him. Then, the orb appeared once more, lighting the face of a man. Wrinkles shrouded his face, hiding his golden eyes. The man wore a large green/yellow cloak, hood up to cover his head. All Merlin could see was the man's lips, moving.

“My name is Kilgharrah, young warlock” the man spoke. Merlin froze, he had heard of that name. This is the man Uther outcast when Kilgharrah refused to save the queen using magic, fearing it would do more bad than good. This is the man who made Uther ban all magic from Camelot. Kilgharrah was...is a great and powerful sorcerer, so what did he want with Merlin exactly?

“Why do you call me Emrys, my name is Merlin?”

“It is the name we call you among us dragons and druids” The Dragons are a dying group of extremely powerful sorcerers, and Kilgharrah just so happens to be the leader: The Great Dragon.

“Why did you bring me here?” Merlin stood his ground, unsure of whether to run, or shout for help. _What good would that do, he is vastly more powerful than I._

“You, young sorcerer, are destined for great things” Kilgharrah spoke matter of factly.

“My destiny? You know of it?” Merlin furrowed his dark eye brows.

“In time, we will all know of your destiny. Or how you tell of it” Kilgharrah laughed, mockingly. “You are to become the greatest warlord ever known. Only you can unite the lands of Ablion in legend. And only you can create the greatest king ever known to man”

“I don't understand...”

“In time, you will. But remember, Merlin”

“Remember what?”

“Trickery and magic may be different, stories and truth may disagree, but in age they are the same” With that, Kilgharrah disappeared as the orb did, leaving Merlin alone, and bewildered, scared of what is to come.


	5. Chapter 5

_Merlin..._

_Merlin..._

“Merlin, are you up yet?” yelled Gaius, displeased at Merlin's lack of movement, who awoke from his slumber, startled. He held his head for a moment -aching from his late night wonder- before changing into his blue scarf and red shirt which Gaius had so kindly washed for him. While putting on his clothes Merlin realised they had shrunk ever so slightly, now the fabric held close to his soft skin and would show a small portion of Merlin's stomach if he was to stretch. When Merlin met Gaius at the table where breakfast (bread and fruit) was being served, it was only two minutes after when the main door swung open and a woman walked inside. Her long hair -the colour of ravens- swung from side to side at her waist as she walked, her pale skin reflecting the uneasiness that could be seen in her stormy, grey eyes. The woman wore a royal purple dress that dragged gracefully behind her, it was laced with silver along the top, an expensive piece, but of course, this was the Lady Morgana, Arthur's sister, she had the finest clothes in all the lands.

“My lady” Gaius spoke, his voice was as if he was talking to a wild animal, trying to not spook it.

“Gaius” Morgana switched between focusing on Gaius and Merlin. All of a sudden, Merlin felt unwelcomed, a stranger in what was suppose to be his home.

“I...Must be go-going” Merlin stumbled, trying to get out of their way as quickly as possible, he was meant to collect supplies for Gaius, but he couldn't help but stand the opposite side of the door in hiding, listening to their conversation.

“What can I do for you Morgana?”

“I've been having these dreams again...Gaius, they're getting worse. I barely sleep. I'm so tired...Nothing works!”

“Have you kept taking your night dra-”

“Yes. I take them just before I sleep, every night. But I don't sleep for long, I dream. But they seem more like nightmares than anything” Morgana's voice began to break.

“Come, my child” Gaius spoke, embracing Morgana in hope of providing some comfort. Gaius had watched over Morgana for many years, and he knew that she possesses the seers gift: of predicting the future. “What happens in these dreams, Morgana?”

“Blood. Blood on the throne of Camelot” Morgana gasped, frightened of her visions. “There is blood everywhere Gaius, on the throne! I don't understand, what does it mean?”

“Does anything else happen in your dreams?”

“No-well, yes. I see the sky, its black, but the sun burns orange, its so strange...and this man...this man stands over a body, I can't see either of their faces...But I'm sure the body is...”

“Is who's?”

“Arthur's”


	6. Chapter 6

_Arthur's body?_ Merlin thought, shocked at the news of Morgana's dreams. _But they are only dreams...right?_ Strangely, Merlin didn't feel delighted at the news of what could be Arthur's death, instead, he felt anxious. It troubled him for reasons unknown. When Merlin finally reached the stalls of the market, he could barely remember what Gaius had asked for. Something about wolfs-bane and apples perhaps. Merlin observed the closest stalls to him, seeing if he could find what (he hoped) Gaius wanted.

“You know you're not actually that funny, Leon” laughed a deep voice- one that had just broken: It was Arthur's.

“Of course not, my lord” was the reply from one of Arthur's knights, they were paid to protect, their loyalty only to income, they were not friends, merely the King's men who try and keep the young prince from harm. Merlin turned his head around from one stall to sneak a peak, attempting to stay hidden within the background. Merlin watched Arthur and the knights stroll through the market place as if they owned it, but they did. Arthur wore his full armour set -apart from his helmet- and when the sun glazed its metal it made Arthur shine so bright, like silver barracuda, beauty in its reflection, but none the less dangerous. Merlin was so concerned with gaping at Arthur's anatomy, he hadn't realised the prince had stopped walking away, and was heading straight for Merlin. The knights continued on with their business as the prince dealt with a certain distraction, not even realising the future king was no longer among their tight group. 

Merlin straightened, turning his whole body to face the prince, but kept his head down in a bowing motion: he didn't want any trouble. But the prince merely grabbed an apple from the stall, taking a bite out of it. But to retrieve the apple, Arthur pressed himself to Merlin's left side, reaching across him to select the juiciest apple, he had angled his head to watch Merlin as he did it. But Merlin kept his head low, peeking a look at Arthur from the corner of his eye. Slowly, Arthur took a step back, studying the man before him. Although Arthur was careful with his actions, it was not unusual for the prince to degrade men and push them about- they were insignificant to him, except this one. Before either one of them had a chance to say anything -whether it would have been about exchanging names, or questions about the tingly sensations in their lower regions- one of the knights called Arthur, and so the prince marched away, leaving Merlin with more questions than he could ever get answers for.


	7. Chapter 7

Once Merlin had gathered the supplies, he headed back to find Gaius. And yet, when Merlin got there, Gaius was no where to be seen. Placing the wolfs-bane and apples on the table, Merlin went on a mission to find the old man. Merlin spent a considerable amount of the rest of the day running down hallways and peeking into rooms, hoping that Gaius would be somewhere. Merlin often bumped into servants and hated the fact these people were slaves, they were not well looked after, for their lives were nothing compared with that of the nobles, let alone the King and his son. Merlin was glad that he would never be forced to obey an inconsiderate bastard like Arthur. The King however, was no threat to anyone, everyone in Camelot knew that, but no outsiders knew the truth. Arthur had travellers and merchandisers pass on stories of things Uther had achieved...18 years ago, and made it seem like it happened yesterday. Since Arthur's birth, although he greatly loved his son, Uther became reclusive and weak in his reign, he could barely hold his head, let alone his kingdom, and if other kings knew of this, Camelot would be in great peril! However, due to Arthur's strength and ruthless attitude -despite the fact of that gaining him numerous enemies- many are too afraid to even question Arthur's actions, fearing they would pay the price for it. By early evening, Merlin gave up his search and went back, only to find Gaius asking Merlin where he had been.

“What? I've been looking for you! Where have you been?” Merlin exclaimed, clearly annoyed, his face scrunched up in frustration.

“ _I_ was tending to the King”Gaius defended, finishing mixing whatever remedy he had concocted. “Take this to him”

“Why? Is something wrong with him” quizzed Merlin, concern beginning to build. He didn't particularly like the man, but he detested any sort of suffering.

“I'm not sure...” Gaius was holding something back, Merlin knew it, and Gaius knew Merlin was suspicious of him, keeping these secrets. Still, Merlin accepted and after having a quick sip of water, Merlin went on his way.

He had no idea where the King's chambers were, or if the King would even be there, but Merlin wondered around, familiarising himself with the different passages that he had ran down earlier. Uncertain of which way to go, Merlin spotted the prince walking hastily down one of the corridors. Merlin quickened his pace to catch up with Arthur, not actually sure of what he would say to him, and vice versa. Close enough to touch Arthur, Merlin spoke.

“Sire”

The prince stopped immediately and turned to face Merlin. He looked startled (and he was) surprised at Merlin's words, wondering what it was that he desired- and how Arthur hoped it was him, even if nothing could come of it.

“What is it?” Arthur replied, a seriousness to his tone. Merlin was frightened for a moment, but for just a moment.

“I have something for the King”

“The King? What is it?”

“Gaius asked for me to give it to him, Its a remedy of sorts...Sire” Merlin bowed his head slightly, as you do when trying to get a wild animal to respect you, and not consume you. Arthur was undecided with what to do: he could take the medicine himself to his father, or he could show this stranger the way and discover more about this man.

“Follow me” Arthur ordered. Merlin quickly scurried after the prince, down long corridors and past many turns. It seemed darker the further they got, even though torches lit the way. Merlin felt colder, even with the burning flames. _There is a sickness here._ Merlin thought, thinking about the remedy and how it was for the King. _Is he sick? Is he dying?_ To be honest, Merlin didn't dwell on those thoughts, his eyes were drifting on the prince's arse. He had changed into less defensive clothes: tan trousers that clung loosely to his legs, his shirt was red and fraying and hung down just past his hips, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and of course, brown boots- there wasn't much to wear for men in Camelot, and boots were a popular trend, however his were leather, showing off how wealthy he is. They finally came to large door, made of old oak, which Arthur opened to reveal a sickly king laying in bed. Its not that the King had been struck down by disease, not a physically one anyway, but depression does strange things to men, and this one had the brunt force of it. The King was pale, contrasting the red sheets over him. They king wore a shirt similar to Arthur's, but white, and it flowed, as if there was no body to hold it. The King was thin, cheekbones beginning to protrude in a manner most unnatural. Arthur went to stand next to his father, his shoulders heavy with concern, slumped. Arthur glanced back at Merlin as if to say 'get on with it', and Merlin took the cue and knelt next to the King. Holding the Uther's head up ever so slightly so with his other hand Merlin could administer the medicine, just few drops of the yellow liquid a day, Gaius had told Merlin (who was use to giving medicine to his mother, before her passing).

“What's your name?” Arthur asked, almost out of the blue, almost because Arthur had been wanting to ask ever since he saw him in the court room.

“Merlin, sire” Merlin answered, softly but surely. Looking up at the future king, his face giving nothing away.

“Merlin?” Arthur smirked. “What kind of a name is that?”

“The one that I was born with” Merlin retorted, embarrassed and insulted. Merlin stood up and was about to walk out when Arthur grabbed his arm forcefully, pulling Merlin to him, their shirts rubbing together.

“Enough with the attitude, you can't talk to me like that!” Arthur growled. No one had ever spoken to him in such a way prior to this evening. To appease the prince, Merlin, more calmly (even though his attitude slipped off of the words he spoke) repeated:

“The one that I was born with, _my lord_ ”.


	8. Chapter 8

Arthur felt something arise deep inside him: an emerging affection for this man...Merlin. The young prince had never been stood up to before, especially not by a civilian, he admired Merlin's boldness and self confidence. Keeping Merlin close (never loosening the grip on his arm) the prince contemplated Merlin's face: how his eye brows furrowed in annoyance, and how his eyes showed great despair, grief and remorse. Arthur sensed that he was looking at an emotion so intimate, it would only be something they shared, together. Arthur was tempted to let Merlin's back-chat slide, and yet...How could he? You insult the prince, you pay the price. 

Arthur dropped his hold on Merlin, raising his hand above his head, and brought it down with immense force across Merlin's face. Merlin gasped and stumbled back, trying to regain his balance, but he ended up holding onto one of the king's bed posts for support. He glared back at Arthur, his eyes gleaming with the welling of tears which he never let fall. _He hit me..._ Merlin couldn't believe it, even his father had never raised his fist to Merlin. Arthur's faced portrayed none of the guilt he felt, but he had no choice...Not in Arthur's mind anyway. Merlin's left cheek burned pink, a hand mark could clearly be depicted, Merlin brought his hand up to feel the warm print. Arthur stepped forward, the prince was not sure why he did, but before Arthur could say anymore, Merlin had jerked away from Arthur, clutching his cheek but straightening his posture- trying to look strong willed, even though he felt like he was breaking inside.

Merlin darted across the room before Arthur could take another step, leaving the prince alone with the King. The door slammed shut behind Merlin, even though he hadn't intended to make a loud exit. As Merlin raced down the corridors to the safety of Gaius, Arthur gazed longingly at the door. Finally turning to the King who rested, his breathing shallow and hoarse.

“I messed up, father”


	9. Chapter 9

As soon as Merlin entered Gaius's chambers, the old man's eyes widened at the flaming mark on Merlin's cheek. 

“What happened?” Gaius exclaimed, with concern written into his voice and face.

“Nothing” Merlin carried on walking into his room, not wanting to trouble him. Merlin sat on the edge of his bed, slumping over himself, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. To say Merlin felt aggrieved was an understatement, he felt ashamed of himself, and resentment for his feelings...his real feelings for Arthur. He was attracted to the prince to say the least, Merlin didn't remember ever having such lust sprout for someone, let alone the future king. But Merlin remembered the way Arthur hit him, and it hurt...It hurt so much. Merlin knew he stepped out of line, but for Arthur to go so far as to touch Merlin in a way that brought him pain, to the young sorcerer this conflicted his emotions and he was flummoxed with what to do now.

Merlin lifted his head when he heard the door squeak open to reveal Gaius, ambling in with a wet cloth in his grasp. Gaius sat next to Merlin on the bed, the look of sympathy written across his face. Merlin sighed, a deep, breathy sigh. 

“Here” Gaius spoke tenderly, patting Merlin's cheek carefully with the wet cloth on the red mark. Gaius realised it was a hand print. “What happened, Merlin? Who hit you?” Although it wasn't unusual for servants to be smacked by their masters, Gaius was still perplexed at to why anyone would want to hit Merlin.

It took awhile for Merlin to pluck the courage and say, “Arthur.” Rolling his eyes the sorcerer wafted Gaius's hand away from the impression, placing his own hand on the red area as he observed the large mirror in front of him, seeing the mark throb as he stared at his reflection.

Merlin cast a healing spell: “ _Þurhhæle dolgbenn_ ”.His eyes flashed gold for a mere second, as the mark of Arthur's hand vanished. Gaius watched in amazement.

“Where did you learn these spells?”

“My father taught me a few, the rest I could do naturally, without speaking, even before I could walk” Merlin explained, feeling nostalgic at the memory. 

That night, Merlin fell asleep dreaming of the days he and his father practised magic in the forest together, and how his father told him stories of old sorcerers and what they accomplished. _“There is so much to learn, my son”_. But It didn't take long for the dream to become a nightmare for Merlin, when Arthur appeared, his band of knights behind him. Arthur rode a white horse, which wore the same silver armour as Arthur. The prince held his sword high, yelling something Merlin couldn't recall, galloping towards the two sorcerers without a second thought. And all Merlin could see was his father's blood, stained on Merlin's hands. _“You shouldn't have got involved, father!”_ Merlin exclaimed, as tears welled up in his own, ocean eyes. Balinor merely blinked, slowly, one last time and whispered something Merlin couldn't make out. And then, as his son held him, Balinor took his final breath while Merlin cried...deep heart wrenching cries.

Merlin awoke, startled. His heart was beating harder than it ever had. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead and back. Shifting out of the covers, Merlin made his way over to the bowl of water located on one of the Chester draws in his room. Once he had scooped the warm water onto his face, Merlin dabbed the droplets away with a cloth. The water beamed orange, a reflection of the amber sky out the window. _Morning...I thought it would never come..._ Merlin thought. The young sorcerer glanced at his bedroom door, for he could hear voices. Tip toeing to the old wood, Merlin pressed his ear to it, listening in. The voices were muffled but he knew one belonged to Gaius. Quickly changing into clean trousers and a blue frayed top (forgetting about the scarf as it was too warm for such an item), he opened the door and barely took five steps when the voices silenced. Merlin was about to apologise for intruding on the conversation, until he realised the second voice belonged to Arthur.

“Ah, Merlin, you're awake. There's some breakfast on the table for you” Gaius spoke, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen between the three of them. Merlin steadily strode to the table where some chicken -left overs from last night Merlin assumed- was wrapped in a slice of bread. Merlin picked it up and took a bite, chewing slowly, standing firmly on the spot. Arthur watched Merlin eat- the prince found it seductive in a sense: Merlin's hungry eyes looking back at Arthur as his jaw moved, how could the future king not be captured by this uncanny beauty? Merlin was the first to look away, pretending to find his sandwich ever so interesting- he just hoped the prince would leave soon, so Merlin could forget his own lustful thoughts forming.

“So. Arthur, what did you want me to do for you exactly?” Gaius asked, attempting to rid the room of the growing tension.

“You could spare Merlin” Arthur replied, matter of factly. Merlin almost choked on his food, his eyes widened at the idea of being anywhere near the prince for any period of time. Arthur never broke his gaze on Merlin, looking him up and down.

“What?” Merlin coughed. Gaius was also confused, but not surprised.

“Sure, gives him some use then. He knows what to do, he is a skilled healer” Gaius bragged, as if he was trying to sell Merlin at a slave auction. Merlin felt as if was being left in the dark.

“What did you want with me?” Merlin snapped.

“My father is sick, as you know, and I need someone to be able to care for him from a physician's view. I need someone who can be there to aid him in his struggles, no matter the issue...But, Gaius is too old to go back and forth to help my father, and so, I came to ask Gaius if there was someone able to fill in his role. Someone trust worthy...Are you? Can you be trusted, _Merlin_ ”

Merlin nodded, “Of course”.


	10. Chapter 10

The young prince couldn't believe Merlin had agreed to assist Arthur in healing the King, and neither could Merlin. But each of them secretly desired more than Uther's health, not that either of them would admit it.

After finishing his sandwich, Merlin found his way to the King's chambers to meet the prince. Merlin felt agitated and edgy while strolling down the quiet corridors. He saw the occasional maid or manservant, but no one spectacular, until he stepped into Uther's room, where Arthur was leaning against the side of a chair. The prince wore a grey shirt, similar to Merlin's, and a black leather jacket, the edges of which were unravelling. When Merlin entered Arthur's face lit up, excitement in his eyes, but the prince got a hold of his emotions and as quickly as they appeared, they had gone and he was the ignorant prince again.

“You can start by changing the bed sheets, then you can can clean the floors. After that you can-”

Merlin interrupted the prince, “I'm sorry, _sire_ , but my skills are in healing...Not...servant work.” Merlin folded his arms in a defiant way.

“Well, you should learn then” Arthur teased, laughter dripping into his words.

“I am not a servant, I am-”

It was Arthur's turn to interrupt: “I am the future king. You will do as I ask. If I tell you to scrub the floors, you damn well scrub the floors!” the prince bellowed, striding away from the chair in the direction of Merlin. The young sorcerer thought he was to be hit again, and flinched when Arthur passed Merlin. But he opened the door, turning for a moment to say “I will be back from my training soon, I expect your chores to be done. Don't forget to bring my father food” and with that, the future king walked out, the door slowly shutting behind him.

Merlin was baffled, _who does that clot-pole think he is?_ With a deep sigh Merlin surveyed the area, seeing the King stir awake.

“Your highness” Merlin said softly, but his words were met with a mere grunt. Merlin came up to the king to help him out of bed, leading him towards the chair Arthur had leant on. The king was light, and even for Merlin's weak body, it wasn't much of a struggle to move him. It wasn't long before the king fell asleep in the chair, and Merlin could begin to change the bed sheets. Stripping the bed clean, Merlin placed the sheets into a woven basket and discovered fresh sheets on top of the old wooden wardrobe. Yes, everything is old and wooden in Camelot, the kingdom was ancient, and yet so grand.

Merlin thought that he had better get the king some breakfast or he may waste away. So, Merlin began the long saunter to the kitchens, taking the basket with him. The hallways, now teeming with workers, created an atmosphere of warmth and sadness. These people had to work to feed their hungry families, although the kingdom is rich, its people are not. And now, Merlin was one of those lonely servants, scurrying to complete their daily chores in time. Merlin had a good idea where the kitchen could be, for the smell of sweet and savoury scents of fresh bread, cakes and meat guided Merlin.

When the sorcerer arrived at the kitchen, it was heaving with bodies. Merlin found his way to the laundry section to dump the basket on one of the shelves. However, as Merlin was turning to get a dish for the King, the sorcerer bumped into something hard and he stumbled back against the shelf. Two gasps could be heard- one Merlin's, the other unknown to him. Merlin looked up to see a man rubbing his arm. He was the same height as Merlin, but he had brown scraggly locks down to his jaw and facial hair was forming on his face- as of he had forgotten to shave. The man wore dirty clothes: a simple white ripped shirt and black trousers.

“God, you hit hard” the man laughed, continuing to rub his arm.

“Um...Sorry” Merlin observed the man, he was in his early twenties and had clearly had a life on the run. Merlin didn't understand up to the point where the man grabbed a bag (full of food for storage) and ran.

“Thief!” one of the cooks screeched. Feeling somewhat heroic, Merlin went after the man, darting out of the kitchen and bolting down the hallways, but the man was quick on his feet and outran Merlin without trouble. But that didn't mean the sorcerer gave up, Merlin kept dashing round corners -where he thought the man had gone- until he collided with yet somebody else- it was bound to happen with the way Merlin was flying round bends.

“AH!” Merlin exclaimed, his head falling flat onto a metal plate, although the rest of the fall wasn't too hard. Merlin touched his head with one hand and placed his other hand on what he thought was the floor under him, but was actually Arthur's chain mail. Merlin peered under him when he heard a throaty groan. Arthur's face was looking up at him, and to say the future king wasn't amused was by far an understatement. For a moment the two gazed into each other's eyes, their faces inches apart as Arthur's expression softened. “Sire!” Merlin wheezed, staggering to his knees next to the prince. Arthur brought himself to stand, more elegantly than Merlin ever could, and stared down at the kneeling sorcerer. “Sire, I-”

“Save it, _Merlin_ ” Arthur barked, folding his arms as Merlin had earlier. The prince glanced around, and seeing no one about, told Merlin to get up. Stumbling to his feet, Merlin bowed his head, embarrassed.

“Are you going to hit me, again, sire?” Merlin mumbled. The prince stepped in front of Merlin and whispered:

“No”.


	11. Chapter 11

Merlin could feel the prince's breath on his face: warm and tender against his skin. Merlin held his head high, staring back at Arthur.

“Why?” Merlin breathed, questioning the prince.

“I was...I was wrong to hit you in the first place. You are not used to, such customs, and I should have let it slide. Just...get rid of the attitude and don't run around like a mad man, alright?”

Merlin was taken aback. _Is he **apologising**? He is!_ Stunned, all Merlin could do was keep a hold of their longing gazes. Merlin didn't even bother telling Arthur that he was actually running after a thief, he didn't want to ruin the tension filled silence that had engulfed them- it was the kind of tension Merlin liked, that he desired, he and the prince too.

“You are suppose to be training, my lord?”

Arthur shivered at the way Merlin called him 'lord', it spoke to him in a way he didn't fully understand.

“I'm going now. I had to change, obviously” Arthur stated, as if Merlin should have known. Merlin was annoyed the prince had gone back to his arrogant ways, but he felt satisfied in the fact that he knew there was something pure hidden within Arthur's bloody flesh. Even though the prince stated that he was going, he did not move. 

Merlin inched forward slightly, an accident by his shifting feet. Merlin's gaze flickered down to Arthur's lips, they were soft looking, like velvet, and how Merlin yearned to touch those lips with his own. Arthur studied Merlin, seeing how his eyes wondered. Arthur leant forward, only a few inches, so that their lips were a mere centimetre from touching. They both froze, unsure of the desire brewing within, the sexual tension between them sparking like wild fire.

“I had better go then” Arthur moaned, quietly, so that only Merlin could hear. With that, the young prince stepped away, gently brushing his shoulder against Merlin's before he prowled down the hallway to train for a battle soon to come. Merlin watched him go, longing for Arthur's breath on his face again, or somewhere else on his body would do too, he wasn't fussy.

Once Arthur had vanished from view, Merlin made his way back to the kitchen to fetch the King his meal. When Merlin finally got to the King's chambers with the (freshly made) breakfast, Merlin set it down in front of him, shaking Uther's shoulder carefully while saying:

“Your highness, your meal is here”. 

The King stirred, looking up at Merlin, but his gaze was focused on some other inanimate object. Uther grunted and began -half heartedly- eating some of the food. Merlin watched from a far, collecting a bucket and brush to scrub the floors with. Merlin looked for a source of water, but found none. He didn't have the energy to go all the way down to the well to get some either. Merlin glanced over his shoulder, making sure Uther wasn't paying attention to Merlin, and that no one was about to walk through the door. 

“ _Brimstréam_ ” Merlin whispered, his eyes gleaming gold for a second. Water filled the bucket instantly. Merlin smiled. _Magic. Such a useful tool, how could anyone despise it?_ He thought, going back to the King who had stopped eating. Merlin helped Uther back into his bed sheets, so he could rest some more. Merlin understood Uther's illness all too well, how it destroys the mind. Merlin thought back to his mother, and wondered how long it would take for the King to kill himself and abandoned his son, as Merlin's mother did.

By the time it took for Merlin do scrub one third of the floor in the main room, it was already noon. _Time flies by, when you're a slave_. Merlin considered, and yet he didn't feel chained, or degraded. Kneeling on the floor of Uther's chambers, Merlin began to scrub the dinning area after he had done the bathroom. Leaning forwards on his knees, holding the brush firmly on the top with both hands, he pushed and pulled the wired scrub across the floor, moving his whole spine as he did, trying to clean even the deepest of cracks. Merlin used what strength he had in his shoulder blades and elbows to keep control of the brush, even though his hands were red and blue as blisters began to form on his fragile fingers. He was sure his skin would harden in time, but for now, his hands bled.

Merlin had almost finished when Arthur hiked in, feeling content until his eyes settled on the scene before him. Drops of Merlin's blood had splattered on the ground next to the sorcerer as he scrubbed the last inch of floor. Merlin was concentrating so much on scrubbing the floor, he didn't realise Arthur had knelt next to him. Batting the brush away and taking Merlin's hands in his own, he took them palms up so Arthur could survey the damage.

Merlin tried to pull away but Arthur held onto his wrists, keeping him still. Merlin glared at Arthur while the prince studied his hands. Merlin couldn't read his face, but the prince felt ashamed of himself. Merlin had told Arthur he wasn't a servant, and he hadn't listened and now Merlin bled and it was his fault. Could Arthur admit that? No. The future King couldn't confess his sins again to this man, and so he dropped Merlin's wrists harshly, getting up.

“Go get your hands sorted, now. You're done for today” Arthur snapped, turning away from Merlin, to his father.

“Yes, sire” Merlin rose, heading for the door. “I will be back this evening, to administer his medicine” Merlin stated, taking one last look at Arthur -and his slumped posture- before returning to his own chambers.

Merlin dipped his sore hands in cool water once in the safety if his own room. Rubbing away the blood that stained his hands. Merlin thought back to his father's death, remembering how his hands were red with his fathers blood back then. Arthur killed him, so why couldn't Merlin shake the feelings he had for the arrogant dollop-head? Merlin contemplated his options. He wondered if he could change the prince and his ways, but, can you truly change someone who has been the same for many, many years? 

Truth be it told, Merlin didn't want Arthur to change, that was a lost cause, but what Merlin did want was for Arthur to treat Merlin differently from everyone else. Merlin wanted to be the only one to know the pureness in the future king's black heart.


	12. Chapter 12

That evening, after having a spot of something to eat (which Gaius had insisted on), Merlin made his way to the King's chambers again, bottle of thick yellow medicine in hand. Gaius had convinced Merlin to smell it, and in one word 'yuck' was Merlin's reaction, which went along with the funny, scrunched up faces he had made.

Gaius had helped Merlin wrap cloth on his hands, to ensure his cuts wouldn't get infected. It was too risky for the sorcerer to use magic to heal himself again, as it would only take time until Arthur found out Merlin's secret.

Merlin yawned, stretching out his arms, he was tired to say the least, exhausted from work he didn't think he would ever do. But, things had changed, he was no longer a child, he was no longer protected from the evil that shadowed the lands. Merlin couldn't go back in time, even if he wanted to. Besides, going to Camelot may be the greatest change to ever happen to him, good and bad.  
When Merlin reached the corridor that would lead him to Uther's room, he heard muffled cries coming from the King's chambers. Concern charged through Merlin's bones, frightened of what he may find the other side of the door. Merlin leant against the oak, his ear pressing against its rough surface. Merlin could tell the cries came from within, but who's, he could not tell. They were wretched and raspy, as if the person had never cried before, or perhaps they had been keeping their feelings inside for so long, until the moment they forced their way out, overflowing and heart breaking.

The young sorcerer was unsure about what he should do. He contemplated returning to Gaius, but resorted to making two gentle knocks on the door. The cries came to a sudden stop. Merlin assumed the person was wiping their tears away, sniffing clear liquid back into their nostrils.

“Enter” a voice spoke, dry and hoarse. Merlin opened the door to reveal Arthur sinking into a chair next to the King, who lay frail in bed. Arthur angled his head to look at Merlin. The young sorcerer could see the red, puffy eyes of the prince.

“I've come to give the King his medicine, sire” Merlin spoke, strolling to stand next to Arthur.

“I see” Arthur murmured. Merlin had never seen the prince so feeble, and neither had anyone else. A tear fell from Arthur's eye as he watched his pale father breath unsteadily.

“Shall I?” Merlin asked, gesturing for Arthur to move so he could reach the King.

“What's the point? Nothing can make him better...He's too far _gone_ ” Arthur broke, a tear ridden gasp escaping him. Merlin felt this was way out of his experience.

“It is not time for the King to die yet, Arth- my lord...But there will come a time for you to take the King's crown, but that is not today” Merlin attempted to comfort the prince, resting his hand on Arthur's shoulder. “You will be a great, magnificent King, but you must remain strong for now, otherwise Camelot will become weak, and there won't be a kingdom to rule once your father reaches...the other side”.

Arthur listened to every word Merlin spoke, thinking that he was too wise for a servant, there was something about Merlin, but the prince couldn't put his finger on it.

“Thank you, Merlin” Arthur purred, placing his own hand on top of Merlin's, looking up at the young sorcerer, Arthur knew- this is the man he could entrust everything to: the kingdom, and Arthur's life.


	13. Chapter 13

Autumn had almost passed before the King died. It was painless, while he slept. The King had stopped eating all together and wasted away, he was a mere pile of bones, with plastic skin casing him before his corpse turned black and crisp in the flames. 

Morgana never visited the King, Arthur would not allow her to see Uther in such a state. She would go to Gaius instead, horrified at her nightmares that would not pass. It was always the same. Blood. Blood on the throne of Camelot, and Arthur's body beneath a dark figure...

 

Merlin had tended to the King each day until his death, comforting Arthur as he did, with words of a future to come, but how each of them yearned for the touch of one another. Flesh against flesh. Arthur often had restless, heat filled nights thinking of Merlin, however, never did the prince tell Merlin of his dreams. The young sorcerer also suffered from such desires, but felt it inappropriate while the prince grieved for the loss of the King, even before Uther took his last breath- he was already gone before they decaying began.

Arthur was too young to take his role as king, for now, thus his uncle (Agravaine) was to spend time within the walls of Camelot, taking on the role of king, until Arthur was to turn twenty. 

Although it was just over a year till Arthur would become King, it would feel like an eternity to Camelot. The other kingdoms had heard of Uther's death, and were already planning their attacks, waiting for the prince to take his rightful place as king and prove his worth, however bloody the war.

Arthur spent much of his time hunting with his knights, training for battle. That was, until Uther passed and Arthur isolated himself inside his chambers, until the fire gave Uther back to the lands. 

Agravaine was dear to Arthur, the only family he had left except for Morgana. He taught Arthur the ways of being a king: how to control the people and how to act when the war finally begun. And yet, a jealousy grew within the court. Morgana believed she had as much of a right as Arthur to the throne. An evil was being concocted inside her, brewing with hate, and it was only a matter of time before it erupted.


	14. Chapter 14

When Arthur awoke on the morning of his nineteenth birthday, he felt more anxious than he ever had been. In a year, he would be crowned King of Camelot, and that weighed down on him like a boulder would on a mouse. Arthur scratched his bare chest and sat up slightly in bed, stretching out his arms, undoing the tight kinks in his back. 

“Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed, frozen, seeing the young sorcerer at the end of his bed.

“A happy birthday and a good morning to you, my lord. I have your breakfast” Merlin smiled (white teeth flashing), showing Arthur the silver platter consisting of two sausages, a slice of bread, and cubes of cheese. Seeing the prince made Merlin happy, they had an unspoken bond between them, a sort of friendship that had brewed within since Merlin had started serving the now deceased king.

“George normally brings me my food...He is my servant after all” The future king wasn't to complain, but it was a surprise, and Arthur would had preferred a warning. A small blush grew on the prince's cheeks, no man had ever seen Arthur half naked before- except for George when dressing the prince.

“Ah, yes. His grandmother is sick: he has gone to her aid a few villages away, he won't be able to tend to you until he is back, my sire. And so, I am here, to serve you...If you would allow it, _my lord_ ” Merlin raised a brow, still smiling at the prince who lay gob-smacked in bed.

“I-Um...Yes...That will have to suffice” Arthur smirked, attempting to turn the playing field. Merlin brought the food onto Arthur's lap, still pulling off that crooked smile. Merlin felt radiant in the fact that he was serving the future king: Arthur Pendragon. 

Merlin knew he was now an official servant of Camelot, but not for a second did he feel like a prisoner. He knew he would have to clean Arthur's stables, scrub the floors and polish his armour, but they didn't feel like chores. To Merlin, they felt like more a responsibility he had to fulfil, like a favour for a friend. He hoped that's what their relationship was: friends, good -no- _great_ friends. Merlin longed for more, but he knew his place, as did Arthur.

Merlin often thought back to Kilgharrah's words- _'only you can create the greatest king ever known to man'_. But how was he to do that? Arthur would always be a conceited and discourteous man, it was in his nature. Could Arthur really be a great king? Could Merlin make him the greatest king to ever prowl the earth with his fine arse? Perhaps what Camelot needed was a strong and powerful king, ruthless in his reign. But Merlin knew he wanted someone with a beating heart like his own to command him, not one with a heart of stone.

“Is there anything else you needed sire?” Merlin asked as Arthur tucked into his breakfast.

Arthur replied between bites: “Yes...You can fix my banquet robes. They should be somewhere, under the wardrobe perhaps...”

“Under the- why would they be under your wardrobe?” Merlin declared, wondering why they would be hidden there. Truth be it, they weren't, but Arthur enjoyed watching Merlin bend over to search for them. “They're not here, Arth-...sire” Merlin caught the prince looking intently at Merlin.

“Arthur. Just call me Arthur” The prince insisted, his eyes never leaving Merlin.

“But you are the future king, I am a mere servant, it would not be appropri-”

“Call me Arthur, when it is only us. Any other time, you can say _'my lord'_ ”

Merlin's eyes widened, his heart throbbing dramatically. Merlin felt heat rise to his cheeks...and other regions.

“Arthur...”Merlin paused for a moment before continuing “they're not here...”

“No. They are not.” Arthur smiled, raising his finger to point at an old chest “in there”

Merlin pondered this for a moment: _Why did Arthur tell me they were under the wardrobe if he knew where the robes actually were?_ Then it hit Merlin- Arthur wanted him, and the young sorcerer felt his untameable desire burn as he struggled to keep it shackled within.


	15. Chapter 15

A flicker of gold and an enchantment under his breath was all it took for Merlin to fix Arthur's robes. Merlin sighed, sitting at the table in Gaius's chambers. Merlin thought back to how he had quickly grabbed the robes and darted out, how his face turned so red, he was embarrassed for himself. Merlin studied the robes, deep in thought, they were a deep red colour with golden stitching, soft like a dove's feather- fit for any royal celebration, _even the clot-pole's birthday_. 

“Ah, Merlin. Are you busy? No? Good, I need to you gather some herbs for me in the forest” Gaius didn't even give Merlin a chance to speak. “Rosemary and Holy Basil...You do know what they are, don't you?”

“Um...well-”

“Here” Gaius brought a heavy book into view. Brushing the dust off Gaius proceeded to show Merlin descriptions and drawings of the plants. The young sorcerer was amazed at how little he knew about the world around him. _Surely there are not that many different plants_. Merlin thought, taking in this new information. “Off you go then! Take this satchel to place the herbs in”

Merlin took the dark brown satchel and headed out to the forest. The citadel was overrun by workers and Merlin was glad when he finally reached the secluded woods, and began his search. The forest seemed to sparkle in the daylight, leaves reflecting the yellow beams of sun rays. However the deeper into the woods he got, the darker the scene became, and Merlin had to rely more on his other senses than his sight. Merlin heard the trickle of a stream nearby and decided to have a drink before starting up his hunt again. Although Merlin thought he was the only one in these dark woods, a tent was pitched up right next to the stream. It was rugged looking, well used and Merlin didn't think its owner had gone far.

Glancing over his shoulder, the young sorcerer made his way towards the tent, eyeing up the smoky fire (recently put out) and the string bags next to the tent. With realisation, Merlin jolted back. _This is where the thief has been hiding_. Merlin turned to go but felt a blade on his spine.

“Can I help you?” The gruff voice spoke, it was the thief, and he wasn't exactly gleeful at finding Merlin in his camp.

“I-I sorry. I-I wa-was just looki- looking for herbs” Merlin stuttered, feeling the sword pinch his flesh. “Just let me go, and...I won't come back” Merlin tried to persuade the man, peeping a look at the thief's face- gigantic blue bags lay under his eyes, he had obviously been sleeping rough.

“Daddy?” A child's voice spoke, peeking their head out of the tent.

“Your son?” Merlin nodded towards the young boy who's hair was muddy brown and spiking up at awkward angles.

“Yeah, its tough being a father” The thief chuckled, lowering his weapon.

“So, you've been stealing to feed him? Why didn't you go to the king for help instead? You'll be executed if Agravaine or Arthur find out you're the one whose been stealing the supplies!”

“I went to Uther, when we first crossed the boarders. He refused to aid us, said we were not a part of his kingdom, and that no filthy civilian was worth his riches” The thief explained, sighing as he went up to his son.

“Boarders? Are you not from Camelot then?” Merlin asked, confused.

“No, we're from Cenred's kingdom...But our village was attacked, soldiers were trying to find men to fight his war...So we ran”

“We?”

“My son and I...and my...wife” The thief took a big swig of what Merlin assumed was beer. “Name's Gwaine. Who're you?”

“Merlin...and I better be going...” Completely forgetting about the herbs, Merlin carefully walked away from the thief Gwaine and his son, darting back to Camelot. He had to tell Arthur.


	16. Chapter 16

“My lord?” Merlin called, entering Arthur's chambers. The young prince sat at his desk, organising military exercises for later in the week- a future king's work is never over.

“Merlin? What're you doing back this time of day?” Arthur smiled, looking up from his work to watch Merlin come forth. “Anyhow, didn't I say for you to call me Arthur when we are alone?” The young prince smirked, fiddling with the papers in his hands.

“Yes” Merlin stated, wondering where to start off. “The thief...”

“What about him?” Arthur dropped the papers and gave Merlin a serious look.

“I know where he is, but-”

“Then we must strike him down now” The young prince placed his hands on the table and stood.

“No, Arthur” Merlin exclaimed, his voice tough, he needed Arthur to listen. “He's not just a thief... He has a child, a son! He only steals to feed himself and his boy when he was turned away”

“Turned away?”

“He sought help, but your father and yourself refused to aid him in his struggles, so he was forced to steal! You must help him, Arthur, please.”

“The man has stolen, and for that he must pay.”

“Of course, but please not let that be with his life, sire, otherwise that child will have no one...And I know how it feels to be alone”Merlin went quiet, thinking about how he himself is an orphan. Something went cold inside of Arthur, he too knew the pain of loosing those you love.

Arthur thought for a moment, if it wasn't Merlin who pleaded to him, then he would have sentence the man to death: he stole from Camelot, insulting the young prince's honour and the respect his people have for him.

“Where is this man?”

“Arthur, please-”

“Where is he?”

“Arthur-”

“I'm not going to kill him...I wish only to talk”

Merlin smiled that big grin Arthur desired and loved, and the young prince's heart melted in a way that happens whenever he made the young sorcerer happy.

When the young prince and sorcerer reached the camp-site of Gwaine the thief and his son, it was late in the afternoon and Merlin began to wonder if the prince would be missed, his birthday banquet would start in only a few hours.

Gwaine was sat by the camp-fire with his son, his arm wrapped around the boy in comfort. Gwaine made a dash for his sword when he saw Arthur approaching in his shiny armour.

“You told him! How could you Merlin?” Gwaine wailed, angry at this betrayal.

“Its not what you think!” said Merlin, concern wrecked into his voice.

“Put down your sword” Arthur commanded, walking closer to Gwaine who held the weapon towards Arthur's chest.

“You will not take me!” Gwaine yelled, his hands shaking slightly.

Arthur reached for his side where his own sword lay, but took a hold of a clinging brown bag, throwing it at the thief's feet. Gwaine was shocked, bending down to take a peek into the bag, lowing his sword when he saw a pile of gold coins inside.

“What...what is this?” Gwaine muttered, stuck for words.

“Get yourself some cleans clothes, get a job, buy food for your boy. But don't you ever dare try and steal from my kingdom again” Arthur's voice was stern and powerful, his voice echoing out of the dark forest.

Gwaine nodded, and kept nodding and nodding, the words 'thank you' not quite coming out for he couldn't believe it.

The young -and now wiser- prince turned to go back to the castle, Merlin at his heels.

“You have done a grand thing, my lord” Merlin beamed. Maybe he could change this man...


	17. Chapter 17

When the young sorcerer and prince arrived back in the future king's chambers, Merlin still wore that big grin that seemed eternally plastered on his face, and Arthur had that smug look of self satisfaction.

Arthur came to a stop at the end of the bed, knowing the feast would be starting at any moment. The prince stared a Merlin- who was a bit confused by his stance.

“I must get ready for the feast” Arthur proclaimed, placing his arms at his side.

“OK, I will be going then, sire” Merlin turned to walked out when Arthur made a sound similar to laughter. The young sorcerer halted, watching the prince chuckle.

“You're not going anywhere: seen as George isn't here, you will have to dress me instead”

Merlin raised a brow, contemplating the prince's words. 

“Dr-dress you?” Merlin stuttered, fiddling with his fingers. He was anxious at the thought- he would be touching the royal skin that he desired, he worried that he wouldn't be able to help himself, and lose control.

“Yes, Merlin. Get on with it won't you!” Arthur snapped, his patience wearing thin. Merlin quickly went to stand by the prince, removing the armour he wore carefully, placing the pieces of metal on a table nearby. When Arthur was finally in his shirt and trousers (which he wore underneath the armour) Merlin stepped back to grab the robes, leaving the prince to remove his shirt and trousers: Merlin was too afraid to do it himself. 

Robes in hand, Merlin turned to place them on the prince, but froze. The prince wore only is undergarments- thin white shorts. The young sorcerer had to take a moment to take in Arthur's muscular, toned stomach, arms and legs- where was their not muscle? Merlin imagined what lay underneath Arthur's shorts was just as thick and strong as the rest of the future king. Merlin felt himself blush, partially embarrassed, and partly because heat was coursing through his veins, pumped by his own lustful thoughts. Arthur caught Merlin watching and smirked.

“I train 6 hours a day to get a body like this” The young prince boasted, misinterpreting Merlin's studying face. “Maybe if you train hard enough, you'll get a body like mine one day”. But Merlin didn't want a body like Arthur's...He wanted, no, _needed_ Arthur's body. Preferably against his own in a tangled mess under a blanket. But, we can't always have what we want, can we?


	18. Chapter 18

Silver plates and golden cups aligned the long wooden tables in the great hall. Shining knights and over-dressed women -encrusted with jewels and silks on their fine dresses- danced sluggishly in the centre of the room, presumably from drinking far too much alcohol. A group of woman gossiped in one corner, showing off their jewellery and other assets in the hope of getting the prince's attention. But the future king wasn't interested in those women, he was far more focused on drinking his ale, deep in thought. Merlin stood modestly next to him, wearing his blue shirt and a red cushion like jacket which Gaius had so kindly given to the sorcerer. The many candles that lit the room shone amber tones onto everyone's faces, Merlin took note of the solemn face of the prince who was so desperately keeping his thoughts at bay.

“Is everything alright, _my lord_ ” Merlin whispered into Arthur's ear, bending slightly towards the prince. Arthur shivered as he felt Merlin's warm breath on his neck. Arthur craned his spine to look up at Merlin.

“Yes, just tired I suppose. When will it be over?”

“My lord, the celebration had barely begun! Are you not happy, this was all prepared to make you smile on this occasion! In a year, you will be king, and these people care about that, they wait in anticipation”

“Nothing makes me smile like you do” Arthur muttered under his breath, although Merlin still heard. Shocked, the sorcerer took a step back, pretending he was interested in the joker that had appeared- performing amusing acts for the prince. 

Morgana and Agravaine sat at one of the tables nearby, making small talk with each other. Morgana grew more jealous of her brother, no one ever made such a fuss on her birthday, for she wasn't the future queen of Camelot, and that scarred her heart like a sharp blade scratching a rock. Fake smiling was her speciality, but she was growing tired of it...

 

When most of the wine and food had been devoured (mostly the wine) members of the court began to file out, even some of the knights had left, even though they were only in the hallway half collapsed in their drunken sorrow. Other knights had taken to stealing the ladies away from their groups, carrying the celebration back into their own chambers. As the future king watched bodies leave, he decided to drink his sixth cup of ale and stood up, unsteady on his intoxicated legs. Merlin caught the prince by the arm, dropping his own cup he was drinking from.

“My chambers” Arthur slurred, blinking a few times, leaning against Merlin's side.

“Yes, my lord” Merlin sighed, heaving Arthur out of the great hall and past the befuddled bodies. The women who were left behind were disappointed in the prince's exit, though they still giggled at the things they could have done, if only he had paid attention. 

Eventually arriving at the future king's chambers, Merlin gently pushed Arthur on the edge of his bed, swiping off his boots. Arthur leant back on his hands behind him, gazing at Merlin in admiration.

“How do you do it?” Arthur asked, a quizzical look on his face.

“Excuse me?” Merlin glanced up with a raised brow before untying the robes. Arthur shrugged off the large robe from his shoulders so it swept around his hips and wrists, opening at front to reveal his slightly tanned chest and white trousers.

“Be a servant”

“Well, I didn't really have much of a choice to be honest”

“Yeah, but Merlin”

“Hmm?”

“You could be so much more” Arthur mumbled, clearly intoxicated.

Merlin's jaw fell: _What is that clot-pole on about?_ He thought, taking away the robes and putting them on the top of the wardrobe. Merlin helped the prince into bed, but Arthur refused to lie down, saying something childish like 'I'm not tired' but Merlin couldn't quite work it out. Merlin sighed, pulling the covers to Arthur stomach, his finger's briefly touching the prince's hip. Merlin's cheeks reddened, how he hated to blush, it made him feel puny and it was down right embarrassing. Merlin was about to turn away when Arthur said something incoherent, so Merlin leant toward to the prince, careful not to get too close.

“Come closer” Arthur order, using his finger to signal for Merlin to indeed get closer, and so he did until he was just shorter than an arm's length away. The room was suddenly warm and ever so silent, you would have been able to hear the cricket's cry if it wasn't for Merlin's pounding heart.

“Is something wrong my-” Merlin was cut off when Arthur placed his hand at the back of Merlin's neck, pulling him closer until their lips were almost touching. Merlin let out a gasp of air he didn't realise he was holding, which touched Arthur's face delicately, causing the young prince's thoughts to wonder where else on his body he could get that same burning feeling whenever he felt Merlin's sweet, hot breath on his skin. Merlin placed a knee next to the prince's waist, leaning on it so he didn't fall and break the tension that filled the room.

Gazing into each other's eyes as their breaths entwined, the two stayed like that for a moment, still as a rabbit spotting danger, both contemplating their next move, Merlin more than Arthur. 

“Arthur...” Merlin moaned, his body beginning to ache from his awkward position, shifting his legs so Merlin's face hovered over Arthur's. Panic began to set in the young sorcerer's stomach. He attempted to move back, but Arthur's hand kept a firm hold on his neck, his finger's caressing the curling ends of Merlin's hair. Slowly, never breaking eye contact, Arthur pulled Merlin down towards him- their lips finally meeting for the first time in an embrace that would turn any ice cold heart into a burning ember of passion. 

It was at that moment Merlin knew, this was his destiny...


	19. Chapter 19

Tender lips moved in sync, as if they had always been kissing secretly behind the bed curtains. Arthur's hand moved to hold the back of Merlin's head -tangling his fingers in the young sorcerer's charcoal hair- to kiss him with the intensity he desired. 

He craved Merlin as a starving child would food: he _desperately needed_ to feel Merlin's dry lips on his own wet, drunken mouth. Arthur drifted his other hand to grasp the back of Merlin's thigh, pulling him even closer. Unsteady, Merlin held onto headboard, gasping into the heated kiss.

“ _Merlin_ ” Arthur moaned breathlessly as the kiss broke, resting their foreheads together, both exhausted and unsure of themselves. “Take off your clothes” he whispered, stroking Merlin's thigh. 

Merlin held his breath in deadly thought and surprise- of course he wanted to, but his morals kept him from doing so, it wasn't right when one of them was intoxicated, especially when one of them was the future king, and the other a mere servant.

Merlin softly spoke, “no, my lord”. The young sorcerer carefully removed Arthur's firm grip, releasing himself so he could stand.

“Merlin” The prince slurred, a pained expression pinned across his face. “Don't go...”

“Get some sleep, I'll see you in the morning, Arthur” Merlin turned to go but something held him back- Arthur's tight grip on Merlin's wrist.

“Don't go...”He pleaded, giving Merlin that wounded deer look. Merlin sighed, relaxing his shoulders he hadn't realised were tense. “Stay here, until I fall asleep”

“You're not a child, Arthur!” Merlin snapped. It was rude and unlike the sorcerer, but he was terrified of what would become. The prince looked shocked for a moment, confused at Merlin's anger.

“Please...”

Merlin slumped on the edge of the future king's bed.

“Go to sleep then” He huffed. Arthur shuffled under the covers to get more comfortable, laying his head of the feather filled pillow. He kept one hand out, toying with the strings of Merlin's shirt under the jacket in a drunken haze. 

Eventually, Arthur's eye lids drifted shut, mumbling something about being a prince and the celebrations not being all that they're cracked up to be. Merlin found himself smiling down at Arthur: the sorcerer kind of liked the intoxicated prince. He still acted like the arrogant prat he was, but he opened himself up to Merlin in ways he couldn't imagine- well, he could, but it wouldn't be appropriate for the sorcerer to envision such scenarios...


	20. Chapter 20

When the sun finally glimmered through the window of the young prince's chambers, Arthur awoke to receive a throbbing headache and a soreness to his lips- they were ever so slightly purple from the rough and passionate kiss he shared with the sorcerer. Although he remembered very little, the feelings he had felt and still feel crowd his existence.

Arthur rubbed his head trying to recall the previous night's events. He knew the party was dull (as expected) and that he retreated to his chambers, he recollected how Merlin helped the prince out of his robes and into bed, and then- _oh God_...He touched his lips gingerly, remembering Merlin's sweet breath, his oh-so-pleasant lips on his in their deep embrace. The prince blushed: truth be it, he had never kissed anyone before, not even one of the girls he used to see dance around the castle as a boy- he had no interest in them. Arthur wondered if all kisses were like the one he had with the sorcerer, or if was some kind of miracle that someone -who Arthur thought was so simple- could make him feel this way. What the young prince didn't know, was that Merlin was far more complex than he could ever imagine, he was more than just a puzzle to solve...

 

It was several months later until Arthur could look Merlin in the eyes again- he was embarrassed and couldn't shake the furious feeling of guilt and regret at what had happened between them. He made Merlin work harder than he ever made any of his servants, and devoted even more time to his training, so that both of them were too busy to talk. Merlin would still bring the future king his food and scrub his gritty floors, but whenever Merlin opened his mouth to speak, Arthur would interrupt him and bark orders rather than listen to what the sorcerer had to say.

The young prince was still trying to figure out his emotions for Merlin, and he didn't need Merlin's flashing smile or gorgeous ass to persuade him- in Arthur's heart, he knew he needed this man as much as Camelot needed a king. And yet, what was he do to? If he declared his love for Merlin, he would be a laughing stock and no one would take him seriously, and he didn't need that from kings who threatened to take away his kingdom.

Merlin on the other hand, wanted to tell the whole world about his feelings, he wanted so badly to scream from the evergreen hill tops that he loved Arthur dearly, as much as any man could love anything. Merlin desired to be by Arthur's side, but the prince kept pushing him away, it was as if they hadn't spent over a year gazing into each other's eyes and catching the other staring at one's backside. When isolated in his room, Merlin often found himself moaning, stroking his hardening member as he imagined Arthur sprawled out across the bed naked, whispering his name. And how that filled Merlin with pleasure, but, then he would always think of Arthur snapping orders and he was never able to finish what he started all alone under the sweaty bedsheets.

 

Arthur let out a deep sigh as he fiddled with what seemed like a mountain of paperwork. Arthur was expecting Merlin to walk in at any moment to do his daily chores...But he never came. The young prince started to worry: _Where is he?_ Arthur decided to go for a stroll, obviously not seeking Merlin out, why would he? Oh no, the prince just thought a nice walk to Gaius's chambers would be a pleasant start to his day after staying up until the early morning hours- paperwork was not his speciality.

“Sire, what're you doing in this darkest corner of the castle” Gaius chuckled, confused by the future king's presence.

“Where's my incompetent servant Merlin?” Arthur snapped, annoyance dripping from his words.

“Asleep, sire, its his day off today.”

“Oh is it now?” Arthur groaned. “Since when does _he_ get a day off, eh?”

“Its been arranged for sometime, I assumed George would be tending to you, sire”

“What? No, I haven't seen George since...Never mind...But why of all days does he choose to have today of?” Arthur exclaimed- he had an important training session today and he needed Merlin to sort out his armour.

“Well, sire, his birthday is today...and he has been working extremely hard for you sire, it is only natural for Merlin to crave a day to himself, he is well deserving of it, don't you think?” Gaius raised an eyebrow, questioning the prince. Arthur opened his mouth to speak but decided against it, so he huffed and folded his arms in defiance like he used to when his father wouldn't let him do something. The two stood in silence for a moment as Gaius prepared a herbal medicine.

“Gaius, who are you talking...” Merlin appeared in the doorway, and upon spotting Arthur, didn't bother to finish his sentence. Arthur gawked up at Merlin, who only wore his tight brown coloured trousers- his skin white as snow in contrast, or perhaps his complexion could be compared to a dead man. Big blue bags lay under his eyes as he wiped the morning gunk from a deep sleep with his finger. His hands were scarred and his knuckles purple from over working, his ribs were also clearly visible: he didn't often find time to eat when scurrying after Arthur all day. Merlin's thick hair stood up in weird places as he hadn't got round to brushing it yet. “Is there something wrong, my lord?” he yawned, still semi-sleeping.

  
“No...I just wanted to see if you were alright, I guess” Arthur shrugged, not taking his eyes off of Merlin as the young sorcerer walked down the few steps that led to his chambers. “I was expecting you in my quarters, but you didn't show...”

“Huh? I thought...Ahh, my apologies, my lord, I thought I asked George to take over for me today, I'm so sorry” Merlin scratched his head in shame, feeling the awkward tension build.

“No worries, I suppose”

“Thank you, my lord... Is there anything I can do for you?” Merlin smiled, glad that Arthur wasn't too upset about his miss-hap.

“No, you've done more than enough for me... I realise I may have over worked you... So...”Arthur glanced at Gaius before turning back to Merlin “I'm sorry”

“Ha, you're not such the arrogant prat I thought you were” Merlin teased, grinning ear to ear.

“Yeah, don't push it” Arthur winked before heading towards the door. “Oh, and Merlin”

“Yes, my lord?” Merlin looked quizzically at the young prince.

“Happy birthday”

“Thank you, Arthur” Merlin gleamed.

As Arthur wondered down the corridors back to his own chambers, he found himself wearing that same radiant beam the young sorcerer wore- happiness truly is infectious... But for how long can we really be happy, when our world is falling apart?


	21. Chapter 21

The closer to the day that Arthur would become king, the stronger Morgana's jealousy became, her nightmares still torturous, she barely slept, barely ate. She was a mere puppet, being controlled by those around her- she had discussed her right to the throne with Agravaine, but he mocked her, laughed at her weakness. She began to lose her mind, the seer's magic within her, corrupting her soul, her brain. Although the seer's gift was strong, her own magic was practically non-existent, she couldn't fight the evil consuming her, and one day, it would be a part of her, like a new layer of skin- there would be no escaping its wrath...

Arthur also became stronger, in both mind and body. Agravaine knew he was more than ready to take the throne, but he also knew of the great war to come: magic and swords would battle, kings against kings- it would be bloody, gruesome and savage. Within the dark-ling woods, the druids, lead by Kilgharrah, were also becoming far more powerful, while Cenred's army grew in mass. It would be a war to remember, all sides knew that.

 

It was the day before Arthur's twentieth birthday, the day before he would be crowned king. The young prince sat at his desk, signing paperwork for his knights, he needed them if he was to rule: they must be loyal, even if he had to sneak an extra golden coin or two to ensure that. 

Merlin was making the bed, humming a melody Arthur wasn't familiar with. The prince smiled as he watched his servant work. They were closer than they ever had been, mentally of course. Physically they hadn't been so close since Arthur's nineteenth birthday celebration. Merlin was too scared to try -he didn't want the prince to push him away again- and Arthur couldn't bring himself to kiss the young sorcerer in fear of showing fragility.

“Merlin...” Arthur spoke softly. Merlin looked up from fluffing the pillows.

“Yes, Arthur?”

“Tomorrow, I will be crowned king...”

“Yes, my lord-and a great king you shall be”

“Perhaps, but, I just wanted to confirm that you will still by mine- my servant that is” Arthur blushed staring at his paperwork.

“Of course, my lord, it would be my great honour to serve you as my king” Merlin paused for a moment before continuing “I will always be by your side, as a servant, as a warrior...” _as a lover_. Merlin thought. Arthur seemed to understand what Merlin was saying, for he rose and walked up to the young sorcerer, they were so close, but not close enough. Arthur laid his hand on Merlin's shoulder, staring into the two blue pools that were his eyes. The future king leant forwards as did the sorcerer, their foreheads touching, resting on the other.

“Thank you” was all Arthur said, softly, as he placed the smallest of kisses between Merlin's eyes which had already closed- it was a pure moment of perfection, or as close to perfection as they could get, for now...


	22. Chapter 22

When Arthur awoke on the morning of his twentieth birthday, he wasn't just nervous, he was _terrified_. He lay still for a moment, staring up at the red cloth that draped over his bed, a bead of sweat breaking across his forehead. He thought back to all his counselling with Agravaine: lessons on being a king. For a second he was blank, then it all came back to him- he was to be strong willed, quick witted, devious and righteous, 'just like' his father before him. He shook his head, his father had become a weak king, and Arthur would be nothing like the man who cried himself to sleep at night.

“Are you ready, _my lord?_ ”

Arthur looked up to see Merlin striding towards the bed, a small smile on his face. The young sorcerer couldn't help but stare at Arthur's bare chest, his muscles protruding in all the right places. Arthur thought about the question Merlin had proposed.

“Ready as I'll ever be” he muttered, as Merlin set his breakfast (which was settled on a silver platter) on his lap. Arthur shifted up against the headboard to eat more comfortably as Merlin gathered Arthur's armour and the official red Camelot cloak.

“Nervous?” Merlin asked, noting the look of dread on Arthur's pale face.

“I feel like I'm about to go into a fight with giant fire-breathing dragon” Arthur exclaimed, his hands shaking slightly, moving the platter onto the bedside table. Arthur took a deep breath before sliding out of bed, only wearing his thin white shorts. Merlin gulped, feeling a rather large lump in his throat, mirroring his bulge if Arthur was to wear anything less.

“Arthur...” he whispered, not sure where he was going with it. Arthur stepped towards Merlin so he could be clothed.

“What is it, Merlin?” Arthur spoke softly, running a hand through his thick blond hair, which shined in the morning glow of the sun.

“What will you change, when you're king?” he asked quietly, secretly wishing that Arthur would bring back magic, so Merlin didn't have to be so worried when reading his book of sorcery or when he was practising his tricks in the woods or in his room. Arthur seemed to give the question some thought, before he grinned.

“Everything. The kingdom is strong, yes, but I think I can make it impregnable, valiant and more than just feared! I will make the kings weep in their sorry little castles, wishing how they were like me, how they will beg me to be their ally, because they will have _no chance_ against my wrath” he boasted, so sure of himself.

“And what of magic?” Merlin whispered, frightened.

“Huh? Sorcery is banned... I cannot undo that, it was my father's last action, and it will be my first stance as king. Sorcery is evil, Uther was wise enough to know that...” He trailed off. Merlin felt tears well in his eyes.

“But-”

“But what?” Arthur gave a questioning look at Merlin, wondering what his problem was, _its not as if he's a sorcerer._

“The druids are powerful, they will fight against you-” Merlin tried to hide the fact that he wanted magic to be allowed back into the kingdom as he blinked away his tears.

“Yes, and I will crush them, like a shoe on an ant” Arthur chuckled, thinking that Merlin just worried about him- they were close and Arthur often worried about Merlin also.

Merlin sighed, nodding, never truly understanding the hate the Pendragons had of sorcery. Merlin decided helping Arthur into his clothes would be best, although he did struggle with sorting the heavy metal plates over the chain mail. Merlin wrapped the silk cloak around Arthur's neck, so that it draped behind the prince -the future king- dramatically, announcing Arthur's importance: doing so, Merlin's finger's stroked Arthur's throat who shuddered at the sensitivity of it.

“I have a gift for you, my lord”

Arthur turned to see Merlin holding a long, narrow object wrapped in old rags.

“Its as much as I could afford, but, I hope you like it...” Merlin began to unwrap the gift. Arthur widened his eyes at the treasure. A shining silver sword, sharp as the tip of an icicle. The golden handle was encrypted with ancient words Arthur couldn't even begin to comprehend. The keen sword had a long golden triangle that stretched to the middle of the blade, which was also encrypted with symbols. Little did Arthur know that the young sorcerer had chosen a simple blade, nothing special, but with his magic and the help of Kilgharrah -who was difficult to find indeed- he made it into the most powerful sword ever known to man. It slivered in magic, the spell known as the Dragon's Breath making it more dangerous than an army of immortal souls or demons: with this sword, Arthur could slay anything, he could do _anything._

Arthur raised the sword tentatively in one hand, his mouth agape.

“This is...” Arthur paused to swing it in the air twice, his movement's swift as a bird taking flight “perfect...more than perfect...just...wow...Merlin, this sword is incredible” their eyes met. “Thank you” Arthur smiled, pretending to slice an invisible enemy, returning to Merlin who's face reflected the same beam of joy as Arthur's.

“Excalibur, that is what the sword is called” Merlin explained, folding his arms, his shoulders relaxed.

“Excalibur? What an interesting name... I shall use it with pride- I will think of you as I slay my enemies, it'll be almost as if you're right there with me on the battle field!” Arthur grinned, then froze as he realised what he said.

Merlin just smiled, a little more tense than before: he knew he _would_ be on the battle field with Arthur, but he also knew it wouldn't be in a coat of armour or with a sword in hand, he would use his magic in the great war that would surely come.

“Thank you, again” Arthur said quietly, stepping closer to Merlin, placing the sword in the slot on his leather belt.

“My pleasure” Merlin whispered. He didn't need to speak loudly, for the prince stood so near that their toes touched and their warm breath's entwined. For a brief moment the two stared into the eye's before them, craving the devilish desires that haunted them.

“Arth-” Merlin began, but was interrupted before he could finish calling the prince's name: not because he was shushed or pushed, not in a sense. He couldn't finish his words because the future king had stolen them, as their lips met in a sweet and loving kiss.

Merlin jumped as a loud noise pulled them apart- Agravaine was boldly walking towards them. Arthur's uncle clearly hadn't witnessed the kiss, or if he had he obviously didn't care. The future king and sorcerer were so far away from the other now, that it would have been a wonder to know that only a second ago Arthur was running his tongue along Merlin's lower lip, begging to be let in. Merlin blushed as Agravaine halted next to Arthur before speaking:

“It is time”

 


	23. Chapter 23

The castle was more than alive, the whole citadel and its streets were crowding with bodies. Everyone was gathering round to have a glimpse at the glorious new king (when he makes his speech) after the coronation. Merlin stood beside Arthur outside the doors of the great hall. Inside, the knights of Camelot and courtiers huddled close, either side of the large room, so that there was an aisle for Arthur to walk down to the priest- towards his crown, his throne.

Arthur shifted on his feet, adjusting the tight cloak slightly in a nervous habit.

“You will be fine, my lord” Merlin placed a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulders, smiling.

“I know” Arthur replied, even though his voice betrayed him.

Suddenly, the enormous oak doors opened as a gentle drumming noise began: a war tune, the music of hope, the sound announcing the presence of a mighty king- for all the people to fear. Arthur took one large breath, held it, and then embarked on the small journey to the steps of his throne. The prince held his head high, muscles tight and stern, his face blank and knowing. The cape dragged behind him in an eerily fashion as the knights nodded, acknowledging their new king. The room was quiet except for the drums, and when Arthur finally reached the steps all went silent, the priest coming forth as Arthur knelt on one knee.

The golden dragon on each hanging flag of Camelot seemed to dance in the breeze from the open windows. Merlin now stood at the very back of the hall, watching Arthur intensely who gave a sneak glance at Merlin before staring ahead again, his people bowing their heads behind him. T

“Will you solemnly promise and swear, to govern the people of Camelot, according to the respective laws and customs?” The priest spoke, loud and clear for all the court to hear as he held the magnificent golden crown above Arthur's head.

“I solemnly swear so to do” Arthur spoke with great strength and power, it echoed in his words.

“Will you use your power, as law and justice in mercy, to be executed in all your judgements?”

“I will”

“Then by the sacred law invested in me, I crown you Arthur Pendragon, king of Camelot” The priest lowered the crown onto Arthur's head a stood back as Arthur rose. “Long live the king!”

“LONG LIVE THE KING!” The whole court chanted, as Arthur turned to face them, his eyes resting on Merlin who chanted with the rest of them. “LONG LIVE THE KING! LONG LIVE THE KING!” The knights and courtiers clapped their hands in sync, secretly wondering of what was to come: whether Arthur was truly fit to rule, or not.

To the side of the court, Agravaine grinned and clapped his hands, he was most impressed with Arthur's progress. But, next to him Morgana bitterly bared her teeth in what an on looker would call a smile. Her hands clasped with force, she was _furious:_ doesn't _she_ have a right to the throne? And yet, there she is, pretending to be happy and joyous for the new king. Her heart was more black than ash from a burning coal fire.

Arthur felt himself giving Merlin a small smile as the sorcerer followed the king to the stone balcony, overseeing the civilians who had huddled together like pigeons trying to get at a bread crumb. Arthur stood at the very edge, placing his hands sternly on the stone cold rails, his crown glimmering in the sun. The people stared up at their knew king; women gasped and giggled at his good looks while the men cheered at the sheer strength their king surely had- it was clear to any wondering eye.

Merlin and Agravaine stood behind the king, proud of their work. Agravaine gave Merlin a knowing nod, which the young sorcerer couldn't quite interpret. Merlin thought it unusual for Agravaine to acknowledge him at all for he was only a servant in his eyes. The puzzled looked made Agravaine elaborate on his actions.

“You have done a great job in nurturing the king” he whispered.

Merlin raised a brow. “I haven't done anything, n-not really” he stumbled.

“You have taught him something I could never teach”

“What's that?” Merlin asked quietly.

“Compassion” Agravaine smirked, turning his attention to the crowd as Arthur began to make his speech to the kingdom:

“People of Camelot. It is my great honour to be your king” Arthur paused, giving an effect to his words. “I know that what is to come, this war, it will kill many, but it will not destroy my kingdom. Will we stand strong, we will win this great war, but the battle may never be over, until we make our enemies bleed and scream our names, begging for mere mercy... We will fight, we will survive. _For the love of Camelot_! My reign will be remembered, for eternity in the stories of survivors, we will never be forgotten, our victories never lost. That way, we will _NEVER_. DIE! ” Arthur raised Excalibur high into the air as the cheering began.

“LONG LIVE THE KING. LONG LIVE THE KING. LONG LIVE THE KING!”

 

And yet how short his reign, compared to the vast expanse of time...

 


	24. Chapter 24

“Could this _be_ anymore _bor_ ing” Arthur complained quietly to his servant. The celebration was a master piece of planning and entertainment, and yet, the king was still not happy.

“You should just be grateful, people have worked hard to make this a spectacular occasion! I think it's rather splendid, much better than your nineteenth celebration... er-while we were in the hall I mean” Merlin blushed, thinking back to that hot, drunken kiss, as he poured Arthur his first glass of wine. “Anyhow, its only just begun”

The king took a sip of his drink and sighed: he really didn't have much interest in fire breathing jesters and half naked woman dancing. Arthur knew exactly who he would be interested in seeing naked, and that person was more than fully clothed.

“You get to have all the fun too, while I stand around topping goblets and tell the ladies to back off of you. Its hard work” Merlin exclaimed, a sparkle in his eyes as he grinned.

“Here, have this then” Arthur handed Merlin his cup.

“What? No! That's yours” Merlin's eyes widened as he lifted his hands, refusing to take the wine.

“Yes. And now its yours. Just take it” Arthur insisted. Merlin reluctantly took the cup and took swig of the sweet, berry flavoured wine. Merlin thought about how only a moment ago, Arthur's plum lips were touching the same metal rim.

“Thank you, sire”

“Yeah, well, you can just get me another one” Arthur shrugged it off, trying to not make a too big of a deal out of his actions. Merlin smiled at the king, finishing off the drink. The sorcerer licked his lips as he watched the jester make a cloud of fire almost burn one of the courtiers. Arthur found it rather amusing and laughed- everyone joined in, even though it wasn't truly funny, but of course they had to cackle, they wouldn't want the king to seem a fool now, would they?

 

Eventually, one of the tables caught on fire and Arthur had to banish the jester to the cells: he couldn't have that imbecile damaging the great hall. The blushing women also made their way out of the hall (in fear of doing something wrong and being strung up like the jester) much to the knight's dismay.

Arthur decided the celebration was over- he was not nearly as drunk as he should have been, he only had a few sips of wine and a gulp of ale which Agravaine had offered him. By the time it took the king and his servant to reach the royal chambers, the castle was eerily dark and quiet, except for the soft snores of intoxicated men that filled the hallways.

“Being a king isn't all it's cracked up to be” Arthur sighed as Merlin worked at tugging the cloak and chain-mail off along with the cold metal plates.

“You haven't even been king for a day, Arthur!” Merlin chuckled, placing Excalibur onto the wooden chest at the end of Arthur's bed.

Arthur sighed and muttered something Merlin couldn't hear.

“What was that?” Merlin asked, filling a large round, wooden tub with water.

“Nothing...” Arthur folded his arms, leaning against the bed post, watching Merlin intently. When the sorcerer glanced back at Arthur, the king pretended he was very interested in taking off his shirt and grabbing clean shorts to wear after his bath.

“ _Onhǽte þá wæter_ ” Merlin whispered to the water, his eyes flashing gold. The water bubbled slightly as steam rose. Merlin smiled at himself, he was getting better at his spells, he was more in control than ever.

“Is it ready?” Arthur asked, appearing next to Merlin with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Er- yes, my lord. Enjoy, I will be going-”

“Nonsense” Arthur paused, thinking of what he could say to keep Merlin from going.

“What is it?”

“...”

“I'll see you in the morning then-”

“No. Just, sit”

Merlin furrowed his eye brows but went to sit on Arthur's desk chair which was only 10 feet away. Merlin heard the gentle splashing of water and looked to see Arthur up to his ribs in the warm liquid.

“What now?” Merlin asked, tilting his head.

“Shh”

“But-”

“Be quiet”

Merlin went silent and gazed at the king who had his eyes closed, his face darkening due to the candles burning out- exhausted from their work.

 

It was a long time before Merlin jolted with surprise at a sudden noise, his shoulders were tense but relaxed when he realised it was only Arthur getting out of the bath. It was hard to see and Merlin registered that he must have dozed off for a few minutes there.

“Arthur?” Merlin stood, seeing the outline of the king.

“Mm?” Arthur mumbled as he dried himself.

Merlin lit one of the beside candles so that Arthur's soft chest and wet hair glowed heavenly in the light.

“Did you need anything else, Arthur?” Merlin whispered to the king, stepping towards him slowly with care, as if approaching a baby deer.

Arthur didn't answer, and Merlin was about to leave when Arthur grabbed his wrist, pulling him up against his damp chest:

“I know your secret”

 


	25. Chapter 25

Merlin felt his heart shatter as numerous thoughts raced through his head- _does he know I'm a sorcerer? I've been so careful! How could he know? Is he going to kill me?_

Merlin whimpered under Arthur's touch. “S-secret? Wh-what secret?” Merlin stuttered, his breaths quickening.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about... And I think you know my secret too” Arthur purred into Merlin's ear, pushing him against the edge of the bed. Merlin froze: _his secret?_

“ _Arthur,_ what are you talking about?”

“Don't make me spell it out for you” Arthur snapped, his grip tightening of Merlin wrist. “Its embarrassing...”

“What?” Merlin gasped, in disbelief and in more than a little confusion.

“I...I _need_ you. I _want_ you. And god-dammit Merlin, I _know_ you want me too! Since that night” Arthur paused, taking in a deep, heavy breath before whispering into Merlin's neck: “That kiss...I can't stop thinking about you. And if that makes me a weak king, then...so be it. But I am of powerful blood, I am worthy of the throne: what happens in my chambers, well, _Merlin,_ its another secret for us to share”

Merlin was dumbfounded, he didn't know how to react but with relief. Arthur didn't know his darkest secret, and the sorcerer planned on keeping it that way for a long time.

“ _Arthur_ ” Merlin moaned as the king let go of him, taking a step back to leave Merlin leaning on the bed post. Arthur folded his arms and stared at the floor, a pink flush to his cheeks. Merlin smiled and leant to rest his forehead on Arthur's. “You're such an arrogant and selfish clot pole, you know that, right? And yet, I'm still besotted with you” Merlin chuckled, stroking wet strands of Arthur's hair at the nape of his neck. Arthur gave the sorcerer a warm, child-like smile and wrapped his arms around Merlin's waist in a loving embrace.

“I do want you, if you'll have me” Merlin whispered seductively after a moment, as he stared into what seemed like Arthur's soul- his deep blue pools of ocean madness.

Arthur smirked and pressed his wet mouth to Merlin's own chapped lips, moaning something that sounded vaguely familiar to 'of course'. Merlin gasped into the heated kiss, filled with joy and slight arousal at their not so innocent actions- leaning his head back as Arthur placed sweet kisses along Merlin's neck, along his jawline, back to his lips. Merlin stumbled back as his legs buckled, causing the pair to land in a tangle of limbs on the soft sheets, legs dangling entwined over the edge. Merlin awkwardly laughed at his clumsiness, running his hand along Arthur's bare spine, as the king's own hands encased Merlin on either side. The towel that swerved around Arthur's hips began to loosen, and Arthur took a huge intake of breath as the cool air poked him, making him shudder. Merlin groaned and cupped Arthur's face with his hands, pulling him closer, running his tongue gently across the king's lower lip, teasing him.

“ _Merlin”_ Arthur whimpered, shivering at Merlin's touch. The sorcerer took that moment to slip his tongue into Arthur's mouth, wanting to know every inch of him off by heart. After an exhausting kiss, the two took deeps breaths, still pinned to each other. But it wasn't long before Arthur was kissing Merlin with more passion than he ever thought possible, beginning to slowly grind up against Merlin's hips with more than a little enthusiasm. Arthur groaned at his hardening member as Merlin leaned up and forced the king onto his back, slipping out of his jacket and shirt (as well as his scarf) so Arthur could draw strange patterns with the tip of his finger -while they kissed- on his pale skin. From his chest to his ribs, his stomach: down to his pelvis where Arthur tugged at the hem of Merlin's trousers, wondering why in the heavens they were still on. Merlin laughed at Arthur's eagerness, and broke the kiss to slide out of the fabric, leaving him in his thin shorts so that he could straddled Arthur's waist, whom of which had shifted fully onto the bed.

“ _Arthur_?” Merlin whispered into the King's neck as his hands splayed over Arthur's chest, feeling the fine muscles and subtle hairs that covered it.

“Mmm?” Arthur mumbled, his head back against the soft pillows in satisfaction, even though he craved more, he was more than happy to just lay there while Merlin traced every inch of his skin with desperate, wet kisses.

“Have you done this before?”

Arthur shook his head 'no', opening his eyes just a fraction to watch Merlin smile as he hovered over Arthur: “Neither have I”. Merlin paused for a second, contemplating the night ahead. “Do you... _want_ to? Try, I mean...” he fumbled, cheeks flushing with a pink haze. Arthur merely nodded, not managing to say just _how_ much he wanted, how much he _needed_ Merlin against him in a naked tangled of limbs.

Neither required much more than the mere consent of the other. Although the interaction of men was never talked about (if it was, it was in hushed, embarrassed voices by those who fear sin) their actions flowed, as if the instinct to be with one another was purely natural. It was as if the lonely sorcerer and the vigorous king were _destined_ to grind into the other under the red velvet sheets, panting hot breaths into their partner's ear as their bodies constricted and relaxed in all the right places. Arthur leaned over Merlin, hauling the sorcerer's lanky legs around the King's waist- catching a sneaky glance at Merlin's begging eyes before Merlin arched his back in ecstasy. Arthur was slow and careful with each thrust, watching the sorcerer's every reaction with each caress.

Their love making was heated with passion and fondness, though a little confusing at times: everything they did was by inclination, compulsion, driven by the thoughts of their affection for the other. It was a night neither would forget as they panted heavily next to each other in the dampened bed, finally falling asleep in a limp embrace...

 


	26. Chapter 26

Golden rays crept through the tiny slit between the long curtains- causing a yellow line of sun to form across Merlin's sleeping eyes. The sorcerer opened his eyes at the burning sensation, blinking to allow them to adjust. Suddenly realising that it was morning, Merlin jolted upright, about to get out of bed to make his way to the King's chambers, when he acknowledged the fact that he was already there. Merlin smacked his dry lips together, glancing down at Arthur who lay on his stomach, head nestled into the side of the feather pillow which he hugged tightly in his arms. Merlin found himself smiling at the sight of a little drool coming from the corner of Arthur's mouth. Merlin frowned as he considered what to do: _should I have left already? Should I be getting his breakfast? Should I dress and hang around, or get on with my chores? Should I pretend to still be asleep? What does this make us now?_

Merlin gasped when Arthur stirred in his sleep, cracking open one of his eyes to watch Merlin.

“Morning” Arthur mumbled, shifting to lie on his back, never taking his gaze away from Merlin.

“Good morning...My lord. Would you like me to get you something to eat?”

“Yes, I'm starving...Make sure the cook puts extra food on the plate, wont you?”

“Of course...” Merlin waited a moment before climbing out of the large bed, slipping into his clothes from the previous day. Arthur appeared to be asleep again when Merlin glanced back as he closed the heavy door behind him. He had a sheepish look about him when he stopped by Gaius's chambers to wash and change clothes. Gaius stared at him as Merlin tied his blue scarf around his neck. Finally Gaius spoke:

“You didn't come back last night” It was a statement, not a question.

Merlin shifted into his scruffy boots, opting for the simple answer of 'no'. He could have said something along the lines of: 'Of course I didn't- I spent the night making sweet, hot love with the king' but decided against it.

While Merlin fetched food from the kitchen -ensuring extra food was on the plate- Arthur thought about the previous night's events. The king regretted nothing, and yet, he still worried about his people- his kingdom. He sighed into the palm of his hand, closing his eyes in wonder. When he eventually stretched out of the bed, he found his red shirt and grey trousers to wear, he didn't have any formal meetings so there was no need for extravagant clothing.

“Your breakfast, Arthur” Merlin called to him, setting down the metal plate onto the table.

The king hadn't even noticed Merlin's return. Smiling, Arthur took a seat at the table and began to eat one of the greasy sausages.

“Sit” Arthur commanded, seeing Merlin about to leave.

“Huh?” Merlin paused, furrowing his brows.

“Well, I couldn't possibly eat all this by myself”

“Then why did you ask me to get extra for you?” Merlin exclaimed, sitting at the chair across the Arthur in confusion.

“So that we could both eat” Arthur stated, chewing his food, shrugging as if his words didn't mean anything to Merlin, when in fact they meant _everything._

 

That afternoon, as the sun beat down like a fire-breathing vermin, Arthur trained his knights. They discussed wretched war techniques and vital survival skills for the battle field: the war was closer than ever, it was just a matter of time before Arthur would be tested by the other kings, and the druids.

It was a tough time, and that weighed heavily on the king's mind. He was still young, the youngest king to ever reign, and yet, he was the strongest by far.

 

“How did training go today?” Agravaine asked that evening, as he, Arthur and Morgana ate together in the great hall. Merlin refilled Arthur glass with fresh water from the stream as the king spoke.

“It went very well, I have faith in that when we go to war, we will surely win” Arthur chuckled, so confidently it was childish. Agravaine gave a small smile- as if he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it.

“That's good... You're becoming a powerful king... But I think there is something that needs to be done, now that you are old enough... So you can become even more powerful, so the kingdom respects you even more...” Agravaine spoke softly, with a stern tone to his voice. Merlin continued filling the glasses, faking an unconcerned aura as Morgana kept silent- listening intently.

“Hmm?” Arthur mumbled between bites of chicken. “What would that be?”

There was a long paused before Agravaine answered:

“Marriage”

 


	27. Chapter 27

The room went cold- dead cold. Like a frozen corpse floating in an Alaskan stream in the middle of winter. Merlin dropped the metal jug he was holding, spilling the water across the stone floor. Arthur's eyes were wide, disbelieving while Morgana's face remained somewhat neutral (this wasn't good news for her).

“Wh-what?” Arthur stuttered. He had never considered marriage, he didn't think it necessary: wasn't he the most powerful king in all the lands? What would marriage accomplish? Unfortunately for Arthur, Agravaine had it all figured out.

“A union between kingdoms. A worthy, and trusty ally”

“The bonds with our allies are strong enough without...without marriage!”

“They are not strong enough!” Agravaine claimed, raising his voice, but keeping it at a steady level.

“I can't! I refuse!”

“Its not open for discussion, Arthur”

“I am the king! I'm not a child any-” Arthur stood and slammed his hands on the table in defiance as Agravaine interrupted him.

“And that is why this is so important! The kingdom nor myself, care whether you love someone or not, marriage -to a king- is for strength... Surely your father must have taught you this”

Arthur was silent for a moment, anger bubbling within his flesh. Merlin had cleaned up the spillage, and was listening to the argument with troubled thoughts. Morgana excused herself after a final sip of her drink, her purple gown flowing elegantly behind her. When the door shut behind her, Agravaine continued:

“The lady Guinevere”

“Guinevere? Daughter of Lord Tom Smith?”

“That is correct. It has been arranged since your births. Lord Tom Smith is an extremely wealthy man, with soldiers of his own. He is a good ally, but he is somewhat concerned with the alliance since you were to become king- he must be ensured that it will always be a powerful alliance” Agravaine explained. Arthur sighed, defeated for the moment, and returned to his seat.

“She is due to arrive by the end of the week. The wedding will take place within the month”

“Within the month? I've met this woman _once,_ when I was a mere _child_ ”

“Well then, I'm sure it wont take much to muster up some feelings for her then?” Agravaine glanced between Arthur, and Merlin- whose mouth was agape, shocked. Arthur scowled, rose, and walked out the door, a proud and calm aura even though inside his demons were tearing open his veins and blackening his heart.

Agravaine merely sighed, lowering his head as his shoulders slumped: for him, dealing with Arthur was a war in itself.

 

When the king finally reached his chambers (with Merlin closely on his trail), Arthur scream an incoherent shout, kicking one of the chairs in frustration. Merlin stood back, knowing all too well not to cut in on Arthur's rage. When Arthur finally calmed down -after punching a reasonably sized dent in the wardrobe- he collapsed onto the end of the bed, pressing his back against the mattress, folding his hands behind his head. A few moments passed before Arthur spoke:

“What am I going to do?” He asked. Whether he was asking himself or Merlin, neither truly knew. The sorcerer decided to answer anyway:

“You will marry Guinevere. You will win this war. You will become the greatest king ever known to man” Merlin paused for a moment before continuing “And I will be by your side, every step of the way”

Arthur glanced at Excalibur which glimmered in the evening glow next to his bed. He thought about Merlin, he thought about this vicious war to come.

“I don't want to marry her” Arthur admitted “I have no affection to give Guinevere”

“You don't have to give her anything...Its just a ceremony, and it will help you...” Merlin stared at his feet in thought: _I can't believe I'm trying to convince Arthur to marry this woman..._

“Its not _just_ a ceremony...Its binding my soul to hers in the eyes of God. I don't wish to bind my soul to anyone...” _but you._ Arthur sighed, glimpsing at Merlin's form appearing before him. “I am strong enough” Arthur cursed, sitting up as he tightened his fists. He tapped his feet against the floor, attempting to figure out some sort of plan. Merlin watched the king intensely. “Its all so pointless. I can do this on my own” Arthur whispered, his own arrogance and ignorance, which Merlin had once cut, was now growing thicker than before.

“Arthur” Merlin murmured, kneeling between the king's legs. He took Arthur's hands in his own, looking up at the king's solemn face. “You don't have to do this on your own. I will always be with you, until hell freezes over” Merlin spoke with a lop sided grin, rubbing his thumbs over Arthur's knuckles. The king gave Merlin a small smile at his words.

“Until hell freezes over” Arthur echoed, meeting Merlin's heartfelt gaze. “Kind of like eternity then...”

“Exactly” Merlin pressed his lips to Arthur's in a sweet, petite kiss, cupping Arthur's face within his hands. When Merlin finally pulled away, his face was full of sorrow, tears gathering in his naïve eyes.

“Is something wrong?” Arthur asked, his voice soft and loving- encouraging.

“No. Its just...”

“You can tell me” Arthur coaxed, persuading Merlin to tell him his troubles: his fears. Merlin wasn't quite sure how to reply, he wasn't sure of these feelings himself. But Merlin knew, it was a dark world, and surely nothing but the bond of weekly salary could occur between the two.

“I must go” Merlin answer quietly, even though he didn't move and Arthur's arms around his slim waist (which Arthur had wrapped there only a moment ago) didn't loosen their grip.

“Stay with me” Arthur commanded, his voice betraying his orders. He sounded like a wounded soldier on the battle field, begging the God of Death to take away his gruesome pain.

Merlin didn't respond as such, he solely gazed into Arthur eyes. Being so close, their breaths entwined. Warm, humid air escaped them in an ardent and wistful kiss. Arthur tightened his hold on Merlin, bringing the sorcerer up against his chest- with such force, the two fell back onto the silky sheets.

“ _Arthur_ ” Merlin moaned, never once breaking their fierce kiss. Arthur moved his right hand to the nape of Merlin's neck, placing the other on the small of his back: palm outstretched, fingers curling against Merlin's shirt. Merlin gasped when Arthur's left (very cold) hand reached under the fabric of his shirt, caressing Merlin's jagged bones along his spine, stroking Merlin's shoulder blades as they were the only thing that could keep Arthur alive.

Merlin shivered, leaning adamantly into Arthur, as their breaths became ragged, tiring from the long kiss. But as Merlin pressed himself against Arthur- grinding against him, it was as if the pair had a new bound of energy to expel from the pleasure that being so close gave them. Arthur broke the kiss -although only for a moment- so that he could tug away their shirts from their aching bodies, throwing them carelessly to the floor.

Shadows were slowly cast across their limbs as the golden candle light began to fade, while more fabric was torn away, discarded like the shirts. Finally being free from clothing, Merlin desperately shifted further onto the bed, waiting eagerly for Arthur who was busy removing the daggers he kept on him. It was a nuisance and Merlin found himself chuckling to himself as Arthur struggled to detach the weapons in his despairing act. Arthur gasped in relief when he found he had nothing else to come between them. Immediately he crawled to Merlin, straddling his waist, so very proud of his accomplishment. The pair grinned madly in their new embrace as skin ground against skin. Arthur placed craving, messy kisses along Merlin jaw, his neck: nibbling at the skin between his teeth, causing the sorcerer to moan heavily, arching his back, needing to feel Arthur against him. Arthur continued placing wet kisses on his skin, moving down to his chest, his ribs, his stomach, each one causing Merlin's breath to hitch. Arthur finally reached the sorcerer's hips, feeling the hard bones beneath the thin layer of flesh as he kissed the skin that covered it. Merlin called Arthur's name in a urgent moan as the king placed a delicate kiss on the sorcerer's inner thigh, feeling the warm, slightly damp skin under his lips. But before Arthur could go further, thats when they heard the screams.

 


	28. Chapter 28

Terrible, wretched screams. High pitched- a deafening shriek that people never hear, even within their nightmares. Merlin and Arthur jolted apart, heads turned towards the door where the sound echoed in the dark hallway. Merlin glanced at Arthur, and when their gazes met, each bowed their heads in a knowing nod. In the scrabble for their clothes, Merlin ended up with Arthur's baggy shirt while the king ended up with Merlin's shirt, which clung to his muscles like a child to its mother's hand. They didn't have time to change, and its not as if anyone would notice the suspicious fabric swap. Arthur swiped Excalibur from where it lay, and dashed out the door, Merlin at his heels as they attempted to find the source of the terrifying screams.

As they scurried down the hallway, a few of the palace guards were gathered outside of Morgana's chambers, concerned looks plastered on their ghostly pale faces. Arthur pushed past the guards into the room, finding Morgana curled on the floor sobbing, with Gaius kneeling beside her, rubbing circles on her back in an effort to calm her.

“What happened?”Arthur exclaimed, he had never seen Morgana like this, he didn't understand what was going on. But Merlin did, he knew exactly what the problem was.

“Her nightmares, sire” Gaius explained, his face scrunched up with anxiety. “They seem to be getting even worse, my remedies have little effect”

Morgana began mumbling through each desolate cry: “blood...blood on the throne of Camelot”. She brought her hands up to her face, fingers poking at the tears streaming down her cheeks, pattering onto the floor. Arthur slowly stepped towards Morgana and sat beside her on the floor, pulling her into a deep hug. Arthur couldn't help but feel as if he has been neglecting her, he had no idea how bad her dreams had become- too busy caught up in his own world. Arthur recalled his young memories of Morgana, how innocent and cheerful she was. How they used to play in the corn field together as children, always trying to make the other look foolish in their games.

“It'll be alright” Arthur whispered into her ear, stroking her raven hair gently in an effort to provide some comfort to the shaking woman. What he didn't realise was that Morgana was a Goddess in her own right, a high priestess of the lands, and she could fool anyone she wanted, as she was doing right that moment. It is true that her dreams of a bloody throne haunt her, but these visions make her stronger. Knowing this, Morgana has taken the part of playing 'weak', making sure no one suspects her of any crime: preparing her for her future acts. Immoral as they may be, she cannot be stopped from committing them. She was to make herself appear innocent and vulnerable to any eye. However, Merlin was not so easily deceived. He could sense her black soul from across the other side of the castle, no magic could hide who she truly was to the greatest sorcerer to ever grace the earth.

 

It was a while before Morgana stopped murmuring and crying about her dreams. The moon was full in the dark sky, casting silver light through the windows, turning a dim shade of red or yellow when some of the grey passed through the frosted glass dragon.

Arthur slumped over the everlasting pile of paperwork at his desk, dipping the golden quill back into the thick ink to sign off another agreement.  _Surely Guinevere's arrival shouldn't involve this much work?_ Arthur thought, thinking back to when one of the servants brought a huge pile of paper into his chambers not long ago, he had not been happy: not only did he have to deal with Morgana, but a mountain of work- in one evening, he was far from amused.

Merlin continued fluffing up the pillows, getting the bed ready for whenever the king decided to retire for the night. After ensuring Arthur had water on his bedside table, Merlin went to stand behind the king. Placing a careful hand on Arthur's hunched shoulder for a brief moment, before walking away: leaving the king to tend to his own troubles.

The castle seemed colder than usual to Merlin, even with the burning torches, but perhaps that was because reality was weighing down on him more than ever. Merlin contemplated going back to Gaius's chambers, into his own room to sleep. However, this Lady Guinevere was never far from Merlin's mind since it was announced that Arthur would marry her. Even though Agravaine only gave this news hours ago, Merlin began to obsess over his words.  _But marriage doesn't mean Arthur will love her, it doesn't mean that they'll..._ Merlin shook his head, trying to get rid of these maddening thoughts.

But. He had to know more about this woman, and with that thought, he strolled rather hastily into the Camelot official library, run by Geoffrey. He was a pale old man with far too many wrinkles and a pointy nose, with extremely silver thinning hair to contrast his chest length beard and bushy eyebrows. He often wore a burgundy robe with grey fur pads on the shoulders, and he always had his golden trinket hanging down to his beer-belly or dangling down to the next book in his hands.

“Can I help you?” Asked a husky, drawn-out voice, it was Geoffrey.

Merlin hesitated, he couldn't exactly say he wanted to investigate the Lady Guinevere, so he settled with a white lie instead.

“I'm looking for the text about Lord Tom Smith? Arthur wanted me to do some research for him...” Merlin smiled, praying that Geoffrey couldn't see though his lie. If he could, he obviously didn't care.

“Mm, yes. I believe the book you are looking for is located in the West Wing” Geoffrey replied, nodding his head in agreement with himself. Merlin thanked him quickly before hurrying to the West Wing. “Its the other way”

“Huh?” Merlin stopped in his tracks, turning his head to look at Geoffrey.

“The West Wing. Its the other way” He said matter of factly.

“Oh...Oh-I knew that...”Merlin ducked his head in embarrassment as turned in the actual direction of the West Wing, a pink glow to his cheeks.

The library was massive, with dozens of isles with thousands of books, the floors too were infected with a hundred books or so, neatly stacked on each corner. It would take Merlin forever to find the book he sought, but Merlin wasn't any ordinary human, he was a sorcerer. Merlin glanced around him, over his shoulder, before he muttered a spell in his head. Suddenly, a large book, as thick as one Gaius's anatomy books (which are rather thick indeed), with torn brown edges, flung itself at Merlin's head. Merlin gasped at the impact, the great force causing Merlin to fall back, landing on the hard wooden floor.

Merlin brought his hand up to where he could feel a small lump forming, fortunately there wasn't any blood, but it would certainty hurt for a while. Merlin stumbled to his feet, leaning on the nearby book case to haul himself up. Merlin noticed the book at his feet and picked it up with both hands: it was heavy to say the least. Merlin thanked Geoffrey and carried the book to his own room where he could read it somewhat peacefully.   
  
Merlin blew carefully on the cover, particles of sand coloured dust leaped into the air at the sudden breeze, cascading down onto the sheets. Merlin coughed as some of the dust caught in his throat, leaning back on his pillows against the headboard.

Flicking through the pages, Merlin sought for any information on the lady Guinevere. After turning several brown pages, he finally came across a section about the Smith family. After only a moment of scanning he came across the details he was looking for, though none of it was very satisfying to his curiosity. Merlin turned a page one last time and found an illustration of Guinevere. The sketch was clearly drawn when she was much younger, perhaps at 10 years old, but even the drawing showed her beauty, even at that age it was clear that she would shine above the rest. The sketch depicted Guinevere as a cheerful child, with long curling hair and a bright glimmer in her eyes. Although Merlin had no way to tell what colour Guinevere's skin, hair or eyes were -for the drawing was in black ink- but he believed her colour would radiate like stars in the unpolluted sky.

Merlin felt a deep ache within him- predictably jealousy. How could he compete against this woman known as Guinevere? The fact being that he couldn't...wouldn't. Merlin knew this was the best path for Arthur, for the future of Camelot, and yet, he couldn't possibly help but be selfish.  _He_ is the one to serve and aid the once and future king, is he not? Merlin pondered that thought for a moment: maybe, just maybe, this isn't his destiny. Perhaps Merlin is the one who watches on from the sides instead, not the man who saves the day, not the man who makes a hero.

Truth be it, there are no heroes in this world, merely people who do extraordinary things, sometimes even evil. We live in a time where even the most devilish of souls are called heroes in the name of war. And who are we to stop such acts? When those who witness the crimes of battle are all too often murdered on the same field? How can we know ever know the truth? How can we ever truly know -or understand- anything?

Merlin sighed heavily, closing the book and placing it on his bed side table. After staring at the ceiling in thought for a few more moments, Merlin finally let his eyelids drift shut, allowing sleep to at last, consume him.


	29. Chapter 29

“Merlin...”

“Merlin...”

“Merlin!”

The sorcerer awoke with a start, finding Gaius hovering over him, white eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

“Its almost noon” Gaius huffed, tutting at Merlin's incompetence. “The final preparations for Guinevere's arrival are today. You are aware of the Lady's arrival tomorrow, aren't you, Merlin?”

Rubbing his eyes, he mumbled a yes: he'd been anticipating the meeting all week, and now, it was only a day away. Although he shouldn't, Merlin felt nervous, he wasn't quite sure what to expect. It shouldn't even concern him- but it did. Merlin shuffled out of bed in a hurry, realising he was suppose to help Arthur in his training session that afternoon. Merlin almost fell to the floor when he tripped over his boots while attempting to jump into his trousers. To say Merlin was in a bit of a mess would be an understatement: many a night he stayed up into the early morning hours researching war tactics and spells. It was becoming an obsession, he craved knowledge- craved knowledge about beings that threatened the Once and Future King, _his_ Once and Future King.

Merlin caught sight of his reflection in the elixir glass jars and tubes. He grimaced at his scruffy hair- how it stood up at awkward angles due to his rough tossing and turning in his sleep. But it was only Gaius who took note of the darkening bags under his eyes, and the sunken, hollow look in his cheeks. When such a destiny as Merlin's weighs on one's shoulders, it more often than not, leaves it mark. Gaius took pity on the ever so young appearing sorcerer, and offered him an apple to compliment the cheese and bread. Merlin gave a grateful smile, knowing he could trust Gaius with his life. They had an unspoken bond, an understanding of the other, an interest in magic and a shared goal of bringing peace to the lands, with Arthur at the throne.

“I'll have your favourite meal waiting for you” Gaius chuckled, as Merlin raced out the door- not so delicately stuffing food into his mouth. The day was colder than expected and Merlin was thankful to have nabbed his blue scarf as the grey clouds gathered overhead. After sauntering around the corridors, Merlin finally spotted Arthur in the great hall, watching the servants decorate it with a vast array of flowers.

“Are you ready for training, my lord?” Merlin asked quietly: he didn't need to speak loudly for he was only centimetres from pressing his warm body against Arthur's. When Arthur replied, it was distant, as if he had something else pottering about in his mind:

“...Yes” Arthur turned towards Merlin -nodding- and led the way into the training grounds before the rain downed upon the earth.

 

 

“Further”

“This far?”

“No, further! I'm suppose to be practising archery on moving targets, so just...Move” Arthur groaned, fetching one of the silver arrows on the table next to him.

“Yes, my lord” Merlin mumbled, rolling his eyes. _Arthur sure is impatient today..._ Merlin thought, continuing to haul the large wooden circle (which had painted circles resembling a target board dried onto its surface) across the field, huffing as he almost tripped over a stray stone. Merlin almost fell on his back the first time the arrow hit the board, it was a far greater force than he expect. Peeking over the edge of the circle, Merlin saw Arthur with a cross bow in his grips, not a bow.

“I thought you said you were doing archery?” Merlin exclaimed, eyes wide.

“Well, I decided to change” Arthur shrugged, a slight smirked beginning to form as he balanced another arrow into position.

“Let me know when his majesty changes -ugh- his mind next time” Merlin grumbled, grunting when the second arrow made impact; into the centre of the circle as usual. Arthur merely grinned, though his eyes showed anxiety and anguish. Suddenly, Merlin dropped the board causing Arthur to curse and jolt his arm in a different direction as he released the trigger: so the arrow wouldn't pierce his heart.

“ _Mer_ lin you _idiot!_ ” Arthur proclaimed, his breath hitching slightly in panic while Merlin strode purposely towards the king. It was a matter of seconds before Merlin placed his feet in front of Arthur's as the rain began to spit on their faces. Arthur's mouth was slightly agape, his face exhibiting his confusion at Merlin's actions. The sorcerer's expression gave nothing away- he showed certainty, and power.

“Whatever happens, Arthur... It _will_ all work out” Merlin said, speaking so matter of factly that Arthur almost believed him. Almost.

“I don't want to marry-” Arthur began before Merlin snapped a retort:

“The kingdom doesn't _care_ what _you_ want, _Arthur_!” Merlin breathed deeply before continuing, placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder, squeezing it. “You have a duty to your kingdom. You must learn to stop being such a selfish prat and think of your people!” Merlin took another breath, lowing his tone this time. “No matter what happens, Arthur, I really do promise you that I will always be by your side, until the day you take your last breath. Until hell freezes over” Merlin gave a small smile, even though his eyes were glistening- it could of just been the rain. Merlin moved his hands to the skin between Arthur's neck and shoulder. “Your kingdom comes first, then what you want. But I'm afraid the two very rarely co exist”

“What do you know about a king and his kingdom?” Arthur snapped, though he didn't back away.

“Nothing...” Merlin admitted quietly, biting his bottom lip, deciding to stare at his boots.

“...I'm not really that selfish...Am I?” Arthur whispered, his eyes too, glistened as the rain pour upon their souls.

“Yeah, but that's OK” Merlin chuckled, some humour returning to his tone.

Arthur smiled, finally realising and understanding for once in his life, what it truly meant to be king: and in that moment, he wished the earth would engulf him, he didn't like what his future entailed. Arthur wanted nothing more than to boss his fellow knights around, but if that title came with a side order of 'you can never have what you really want' (which in his case, was getting his own way...That and Merlin) then he wished he had never been the son of Uther Pendragon. Why couldn't he have been born a simpleton in the village of Ealdor? Because fate had a different idea, one to leave stories in the minds of children. And fate doesn't really give a damn whether Arthur liked the plan or not.

 


	30. Chapter 30

“Why don't we get out of this rain, my lord? I feel as if my nose will fall off!” Merlin exclaimed, wiping droplets of rain water off his face, for it to only be replaced my new ones.

“Don't be such a baby, Merlin” Arthur remarked, a friendly tone to his banter as he nudge Merlin with his elbow. “Its just a bit of water! And I've still got training to do”.

“Well I haven't got as many fat layers as you!” Merlin bit his tongue as soon as the words left his mouth. Had he gone too far? Only a second went by before Arthur started to laugh.

“Oh yeah?” Arthur grinned, lunging at Merlin- only to tickle him with cold fingers. Merlin collapsed on the muddy floor in fits of laughter, pleading Arthur to stop. But that only made Arthur touch Merlin's skin faster in mere delight. Merlin couldn't think of the last time (if at all) Arthur was so in touch with his child-like behaviour- except for the whining aspect, of course. Suddenly, Arthur got up and held out a hand for Merlin.

“Lets go”

Merlin grabbed Arthur's hand tightly as he hauled his brown, wet body up.

“I'm going to have to clean my clothes now” Merlin complained, pouting as the pair made their way inside- hands apart.

“Good, you can clean mine while your at it”

Merlin let out a annoyed groan, he didn't enjoying cleaning at all, even when it was made easier by magic, it was at these times he wished George would take back his job. The hallways glowed a hazy orange in the candle light, the rays glimmering as reflections in the stone. The storm clouds made it darker than it truly was. It was unsettling, as if the warmth of the day was fading into oblivion.

A few of the guards gave Merlin inquisitive looks at his filthy clothing as they walked by, nodding at Arthur in somewhat respect. Merlin shivered, ignoring the rude stares and kept his pace with the king. Once in the confinements of Arthur's chambers, Merlin locked the door and carefully helped Arthur out of his armour and under-shirt, grabbing one of the spare towels on the side to dry him with. Arthur watched Merlin carefully, a strange look in his eyes- a look that rarely ever broke the surface.

“I can do the rest, go dry yourself off” Arthur went to take the towel but Merlin kept a tight hold as he knelt next to the king.

“No. This is my job Arthur, its really no bother...” Merlin explained, while in actual fact Merlin just lusted for the king's silky skin and ragged breaths beneath him. Arthur arched an eyebrow.

“You're making the floor wet-”

“I clean it: so I can do what I like to the floor”

“For gods sake, Merlin. Just-”

“Look I'm done, I'm going now” Merlin cheered, grinning from ear to ear, he loved joking around with Arthur, even when one of them would take it a little seriously: Merlin knew he was the only one who could talk to Arthur in such a way, even the most trusted knights didn't dare back-chat the king.

“ _Merlin_ ” Arthur called sternly. The sorcerer turned to stare at the king, Arthur's wet clothes in hand ready to be cleaned. The air abruptly felt thicker as thoughts raced through Arthur's mind. He wanted to tell Merlin to stay, to get one of the other servants to clean their clothes so they could make desperate love under the velvet sheets, but appearances meant everything right now. If he messed up, he could find himself a king without a kingdom. As much as that sounded good to Arthur, he knew he would be nothing without Camelot. And Camelot would be nothing without him. “Make sure you come back with my dinner this evening, alright? And some extra sheets, I suppose it will be cold tonight...” Arthur stared at small damp puddle on the floor made by Merlin moments ago. The water reflected his vain expression, pale and distorted.

“Of course, Arthur”

 

“ _Onhǽte þá wæter_ ” Merlin chanted, warming the bucket of water to scrub the clothes in. Gaius watched from the bench, fumbling with his latest remedy.

“You need to be careful, Merlin” Gaius advised, shaking the elixir gently.

“When am I not? I can't remember the last time I actually relaxed... I'm constantly on guard, making sure I don't mess up” Merlin confessed, exhaling into the wet fabric as he dipped it into the hot water. Gaius gave a knowing sigh, understanding all too well the troubles of keeping one's magic in check. Gaius had it easy though, there was a time he could practice the art freely, and he didn't have to contain his secret of magic as if his life depended on it: Uther knew of Gaius's power and respected that, as Arthur now knows of it and trusts Gaius all the same. But Merlin has never felt the relief of practising magic before the ban, has never felt the freedom or joy of helping others so openly with his sorcery. “I wish things were different” Merlin admitted.

“One day, boy, it will be...”

 

 

The storm still raged over the sky as evening rolled by, thunder began to groan longingly into the high winds. Merlin opened the king's door to find Arthur huddle over his desk, making final adjustments to his speech to welcome Guinevere. Clean, dry clothes on and a warm meal in hand, Merlin made his way over to Arthur who was so caught up in his work he didn't notice Merlin's entry.

“Your dinner, Arthur”

The king practically leapt out of his skin at the soft words. Arthur placed his quill back into its pot and leaned back into the chair.

“I didn't hear you come in”

“You've been busy?” Merlin asked, taking note of the paperwork that never seemed to disappear. Arthur nodded, stretching his arms above his head and heaved himself to his feet.

“Always work to be done” Arthur uttered, walking to take a seat at the dinner table. Merlin placed the silver platter in front of Arthur, laying down the cutlery while he was at it. Arthur missed the days where he had the time to go riding with his father's knights, hunting the weak while drinking goblets of mead...And now here he is, filling out endless sheets of nonsense and preparing for a war, for marriage. Arthur always thought being king would be great, but now he wasn't so sure. He thrived on battle, however the war that was to come would be a far greater battle than any man could wish to ever experience. Arthur remembered how immature he had been back then: chasing after every young woman his eyes found, whether their fathers gave permission or not- he was the prince at the time. And now, he desired no one but the skinny man beside him, and yet how could he ever begin to admit these thoughts?

“Is there anything else you needed?”

“Well, you forgot the extra sheets for starters” Arthur replied, a playful tune to his words. Merlin groaned under his breath, thinking he had done everything right for once. Merlin told Arthur he would only be a moment and raced down the corridor to the storage room, pulling out red velvet sheets from the wooden shelf- which would clearly break down at any moment. Merlin almost ran into one of the servants on his way back: the old woman gave him an awful stare even when he apologised numerous time, it wasn't like he  _actually_ ran into her, but people were getting rather stressed recently with all the preparations.

“Here” Merlin gestured at the sheets in his hands. Arthur nodded, sipping the rest of the water from his cup. Merlin spread the fabric over the bed, which made air bending sounds as the sheets floated onto it. The sorcerer took note of the thunder dancing closer and closer and made his way over to the windows to ensure they were shut. Bringing the velvet curtains together, Merlin turned into the darkness of the room, lighting one of the candles with a match nearby. The candlelight lit amber rays onto Merlin's pale face, giving it an earthy glow. It was rather early into the night, but Merlin knew they both had to get up at first light.

“You should rest now, Arthur” Merlin suggested, he couldn't exactly give an order. When Arthur didn't reply, Merlin sighed and headed for the door.

“Merlin” Arthur called. The sorcerer glanced over his shoulder to watch the king standing as a orange shadow near the bed. Merlin caught Arthur's dark gaze and the room felt much warmer than before, and Merlin doubted it was because of the candle. “Thank you”

“What for?” Merlin turned, raising and eyebrow in surprise. Arthur was  _praising_ him. It was an event that happened very little- was Merlin changing him for the better? As Kilgharrah had suggested he would?

“Your words. You- you never fail to give me some thought or reassurance, and I- I appreciate that” Arthur blushed, the tips of his ears turning pink. Merlin felt heat rise in his own cheeks: he only ever did what he felt necessary, he never really believed the arrogant king  _listened_ to him. Merlin inched forward to come face-to-face with Arthur. Merlin pressed his right hand under the chin of the king to pull his lips to his own in a sweet kiss, murmuring an incoherent 'your welcome'. Arthur moaned at the contact, cradling Merlin within his arms, forcing him closer: needing to feel their warm bodies brush up against one-another in a passionate haste.

Merlin pushed Arthur back onto the soft sheets, straddling his hips as they pried each other's shirts loose, chucking them to the floor in a hurry. Arthur traced his tongue over Merlin's lower lip, begging for entry, Merlin gasped into the kiss, allowing Arthur's tongue to explore further. The king forcefully grabbed the back of Merlin's thighs, causing the sorcerer to pulsate and thrust against Arthur's hardening member. The impact caused Arthur to gasp for air, breaking away from the heated kiss for just a moment. Merlin kissed at the skin on Arthur's neck- tasting the salty sweat beginning to form. Arthur made a low -somewhat of a growling- sound and Merlin practically felt the noise course through in veins in fits of pleasure.

After a final scrabble for the release of clothes, Merlin continued to jolt against Arthur's hips with his own- thrusting their groins together in a yearning act of desire. Finding an icy prick on his skin (even with his tepid blood and throbbing cock) Merlin pulled the velvet sheets from under Arthur's panting body and draped the fabric over them. Merlin began to place delicate kisses against Arthur's chest as the king lay he head on the soft pillow, closing his eyes at the feel of Merlin's lips gracing him. Pressing kisses further down Arthur's body, the cold eventually left Merlin's skin, replacing Merlin's goose bumps with eager droplets of sweat. Their hearts beat so quickly that if it wasn't for their ragged breaths and hungry moans, the drumming could quite possibly be heard. Merlin placed a tender bite on the inside of Arthur thigh, earning him a lusty groaning of his name. It wasn't long before -as Merlin took Arthur into his warm mouth- the king came, and returned the favour, causing throaty moans to fill the room, as quiet as they tried to be. In the fullness of time, the couple were nestled into each-other's arms under the layers of gentle fabric, ultimately finding tranquil sleep as the clouds finally parted, dispersing the wretched storm.

 

 

The morning sun rays crept through the slit in the curtains like a lion stalking its pray, but that wasn't what woke either of them from their slumber. No, it was the loud knocking and confused huff of a servant outside Arthur's chambers that startled them:

“Sire, the Lady Guinevere has arrived”


	31. Chapter 31

Leaping out of the bed like clumsy newborn gazelles, the pair raced against time to scavenge for their clothes and look at least moderately presentable. Merlin helped edge on Arthur's armour and Camelot cloak while Arthur (somehow rather well) combed his hair with a wire brush. Merlin only had time to flatten his own hair with his hand as he unlocked the door for Arthur to walk though. Neither had planned to get up so late, but last night's events seemed to have left both relatively tired. The duo darted down the stone corridors, servants jumped out of their way as they sauntered to the great hall: desperate to arrive there before Guinevere.

There was only a small pause to construct themselves before the doors flew open and Arthur strode to stand in front on his throne. The hall was packed with knights and courtiers, and Merlin found his place beside Gaius near the very front, finding that he could give Arthur reassuring smiles throughout the small speech. Morgana stood frowning next to Agravaine a few places on Gaius's right, her green dress hung tight to her body.

A moment later the doors opened once more, to reveal two brown clothed knights (with their silver chain mail on top glimmering in the light, they vaguely resembled Wyverns) who were strong followers of Lord Tom Smith. Behind them sauntered another knight, but his under-shirt was red -representing Camelot- though the black hammer on his tunic showed that he was extremely loyal to the Smith family. The knight had deep brown tousled hair with bronze skin (though with a pale look to it) and hard, burnt sienna eyes, almost as if he could take your soul. But with his beginnings of facial hair and pink lips, he actually looked like the noblest of them all. The knight was an attractive young man, no older than twenty five but he still appeared to have witnessed the demons rising from men. Merlin noticed a small scar above his right eye and that all but insured his theories.

But next to the knight, walked a delicate figure. From just a glance Merlin knew it was the Lady Guinevere. How? Because of her heart warming smile, her 'just past the shoulder' dark curls, her caramel skin, her coconut eyes and the innocent blush in her cheeks: she was beautiful, just as Merlin expected. Arthur felt his heart race, this is the woman he will marry, and yet he couldn't stop sneaking glances at Merlin- his gawking face, matching everyone else's in the room. Guinevere wore a crimson dress, hoping to show just how much her family are entwined with Arthur's, she too knew how important the alliance was. How sacred the marriage is. The two knights at the front dispersed on either side of the room, leaving the Lady Guinevere and the attractive knight below the few steps leading the the king. Guinevere bowed, picking up her dress in a curtsy and smiled.

“Lady Guinevere. I hope your travels were well?” Arthur asked

“Very well indeed, it was a peaceful journey, your highness” Guinevere answered, nodding her head as the knight in red bowed.

“Good. I trust you will enjoy your stay here, there is to be a feast in your honour” Arthur smiled, looking between Guinevere and the knight.

“How lovely, I look forward to it” Guinevere truly sounded sincere, and then as if she had forgotten something: “Ah, this is Sir Lancelot. He is a loyal man to my father and I. I hope you don't mind my bringing my own guard?” Guinevere bit her lip in fear of having Lancelot removed. They had known each other for a long time, and he has always been by Guinevere's side as a fierce protector. She wouldn't know what to do without him, she never felt safe unless he was by her side- as inappropriate as it may seem.

“Sire” Lancelot nodded, his voice a sensuous husk.

“Of course, I wouldn't have it any other way” Arthur replied, his smile never faltering. Now, addressing the court, Arthur spoke sternly:

“The Lady Guinevere, daughter of Lord Tom Smith, is our revered guest. She is to be treated like royalty and protected by all, for one day, and soon, she will be queen. This marriage will not only make our kingdom stronger, but our alliances even more so. It is an important time for us all, the war is being thrust upon us, and surely, there will be a grand battle...”

Merlin couldn't help but find Arthur's words false, he knew him better and he recognised the lack of effort and truth in his words- apart from the war that will come, Merlin believed nothing more of the speech. He felt as if there was a dark hidden message within the unspoken words, even if he was just imagining them, but still, they left him unsettled.

 

Once Arthur had finished, the room filled with a cheery applause: any nerves calmed by the king's words. Arthur felt secure in the knowledge that he could comfort his people- a good king has to be able to settle the angry cries of men.

The Lady Guinevere was kindly showed to her room by one of the maids close by, Lancelot at her heels. Merlin felt a strange sensation in the air, almost as if something was off. Merlin shook his head: what was he thinking? The only thing suspicious in the grand castle was certainly the sorcerer and king's relationship under the cover of darkness. Arthur gave a silent sigh of relief as the courtiers left, leaving himself, Merlin and the knights to discuss Cenred's latest actions, as well as the druids.

Warm bodies gathered around the large circular table (brought in by guards), settling down maps as Lord Tom Smith's knights left the room, understanding their unnecessary presence. Once the rustles of work had come to rest, Arthur gave a courteous nod for Leon to begin. The knight cleared his throat before speaking.

“On our latest druid camp raid, we have come to the realisation that Cenred is not the only one increasing in forces. The were far more druids than we imagined at such a small camp, it was getting rather overwhelming...” Leon paused, coughing again, he despised being the messenger of bad news.

“How many?” Arthur asked, eyeing up the marked spot on the map where the recent raid took place.

“Its hard to say...”

“Then give an estimate” Arthur snapped, his eye brows furrowing in anger: not just at Leon, but at the druids themselves.

“Thirty, I would say. Twenty men, the rest women”

“No children?” Arthur quizzed, surprised.

“No children. It was odd, like all of them had vanished...” one of the other knights confirmed.

“And this was a small camp?” Arthur frowned, confused.

“Yes, one in which we would expect half of that number in” Leon explained, just as confused as the rest of them. All was silent for a moment before Merlin came to the realisation that the reason there were no children, was because they had been taken away, for training. The druids were going to make their offspring fight in this god-forsaken war. Merlin gasped slightly, though no one noticed, too deep within their own minds. Merlin didn't think his thoughts could make a difference, so he kept quiet as his skin turned cold at the idea of young sorcerers fighting on the bloody battle field.  


When the knights finally announced themselves exhausted of all ideas to do with both druids and war tactics, with an angered sigh Arthur told them to rest and to resume tomorrow. The men left in a hurry before the king changed his mind, leaving Merlin and Arthur within the echoed walls of the hall.

“Come on, Merlin” Arthur called, as he too started for the exit. Following closely at his heels, they made their way to Arthur chambers to ready for the feast that evening (though I assure you that being royal is not all about the feasts, albeit as splendid and grand as they seem). As Arthur strode ahead, Merlin paused when he heard delicate giggling. Curious, Merlin slunk down the hall to Guinevere's room where he heard the noises, careful not to raise alarm at his departure- though it was clear Arthur was dense enough to not have a single clue.

Peering in through a small hole in the doorway, he eyed Guinevere by the window, smiling as if all the evil in the world had faded away. Angling his head further, Merlin saw Morgana leaning next to her on the wall, a grin plastered on her face. The sorcerer attempted to listen in, curiosity getting the better of him. But, when a sharp point prodded at his spine, he spun around quickly, his heart throbbing in his chest when he came face to face with Lancelot.


	32. Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Lancelot asked, never once removing the sword from Merlin's centre, making the sharp tip scrape his pale stomach. Lancelot's voice was deep and husky, he was surely of the gods own work.

“N-nothing” Merlin stuttered, bracing his back against the smooth door. Lancelot squinted his eyes, seeing through Merlin's clear lies. But before Lancelot could say or do anything, a shout of Merlin's name gave the sorcerer a chance to escape. Merlin walked (rather quickly) away, slightly staggering over his own feet as he watched Lancelot glare at his retreating form. Merlin stumbled right into Arthur's chest as he turned a corner.

“There you are! Where did you go?” Arthur exclaimed, furrowing his eyebrows as he folded his arms together. Merlin took a small step back, thinking of some great excuse.

“Wood-worms...”

“Wood...worms?” Arthur quizzed, an eyebrow now cocked.

“Yes, an invasion of wood-worms has been called to my attention” Merlin explained matter of factly.

“You are my servant, the rest of the castle shouldn't concern you”

“Ah, but Gaius has something to rid of them, so they came to me to get the stuff from Gaius for them so that-"

“Merlin”

“Shut up?”

“You got it” Arthur smirked, Merlin reflecting the king's grin on his own face. After a few moments of smiling maniacally at each other, Arthur finally turned -smirk still plastered- and headed towards his chambers for a couple hours of peace before the Welcoming Feast began.

 

“She seems lovely” Merlin commented when in the confinements of Arthur's chambers. The king kept quiet, giving a small nod in response. Merlin bit his lip, watching the king take a seat at his desk- which he more often than not slept on when exhausted from the days work. Arthur had never felt more physically, and mentally tired than when he became king: each new day was a chore, except from the precious and hushed moments with Merlin.

No more words were passed between the two, for words were not needed to speak to one another. Merlin could read Arthur like a book, and vice versa (or so Arthur thought- he had no idea that the man before him actually held such a dark secret: sorcery).

 

“The feast will be soon, you should get ready now” Merlin stated after a while of Arthur drumming his fingers on the wooden desk, as the sorcerer ran a finger along Arthur's folded clothes. When the king merely grunted, Merlin carried on talking: “we don't want another hasty departure like this morning” Merlin teased, smiling at the thought of it, begging for a reaction out of Arthur. But he remained within his quiet dormancy, his gaze distant and hazy. “Arthur...Arthur...Arthur!” Merlin called, voice raised with impatience. The king snapped out of his state to stare up at Merlin.

“What will you do when I marry Guinevere?” Arthur asked, almost out of the blue- though Arthur had been pondering the question for a long time.

“I will remain-” Merlin began, preparing to go over the speech he so often had with Arthur, when the king stopped him.

“I know that...But will you still be my manservant?” Arthur's tone was monotonous, as if he was afraid of the answer. He knew if Merlin remained his servant, that he would also serve the Queen. Of course, although he wouldn't have to brush her hair or dress her for a day's ride out, Merlin would still be responsible for bringing two meals to the King's (and Queen's) chambers, washing two pairs of clothes and changing the sheets to a bed where two people would sleep- though this time, one of those bodies wouldn't belong to Merlin. Arthur wasn't sure if Merlin would be willing to go through that with Guinevere, not that the king believed his manservant was 'head over heels' for him, but he knew they had a sacred bond. Some sort of beautiful affection for each other, despite each of their flaws and attitudes. Two sides of the same coin: each side a contrast of the other, and yet how they fit so perfectly together with the circular rim of time.

 

“You seem distracted, sire” Guinevere politely commented, giving Arthur a weak smile. They were sat in the very middle of the longest table at the far end of the great hall, seated on large wooden thrones which were draped in a rouge velvet cloth. A beautiful melody was being played by the court musicians as people made small talk while stuffing their arrogant mouths with delicacies.

“Not at all” Arthur chimed, returning the half hearted smile. Arthur shifted back in his seat, stretching his legs out under the table as he took a sip of his wine. The liquor was more bitter than he was used to, but as a gift from the Lord Tom Smith, how could he refuse to taste the liquid? Arthur wondered how to tackle the druids as he took another sip, the alcohol numbing the taste buds on his tongue. Cenred's forces were also growing in numbers, even though they're merely people picked off the side walk, not trained soldiers. But still It would be five men to one knight, and that was only considering Cenred's army- add in the druids and you have a literal bloody mess on your hands. Arthur wasn't sure how to deal with the conflictions within his own mind already without having to prepare for his own wedding to a woman he couldn't possibly ever love- albeit a wonderful woman she may be.

“Are you sure? You know you can confined in me, your troubles are my own” Guinevere added, giving the king a concerned look. Arthur watched Guinevere's expression, contemplating on telling her all that is wrong in the world. Instead however, he only gave her a glimpse at his worries: what a king should fret about.

“This war, it will be like no other battle, and that troubles me. There are many men to feed, to guide, to armour, to shelter...And of course the people of Camelot to protect, it wont be a cheap time. I wonder what else will be left of my riches...” Arthur explained, monotonous. His face never suggesting that what truly troubled him was the skinny servant he wanted in his bed.


	33. Chapter 33

Flowers. Why are there flowers everywhere? Arthur thought, rolling his eyes as another servant came bombarding down the hallway with a colourful bouquet of tulips and some other flower Arthur would never be able to name. The hallways were practically alive with different shades of oranges, yellows, pinks, purples and greens in the forms of wonderfully smelling plants. Of course, Arthur knew exactly why with every turn around a corner a soft petal would delight his senses- they were gifts. Not his, not really, they suited Guinevere far better, and they did make thoughtful 'good luck on your special day' presents. But none the less, Arthur and the Lady Guinevere were receiving dozens of flowers -per day- from citizens of Camelot, followers of the Smiths as well as other allies of the future 'couple'.

The wedding was upon them sooner than Arthur ever expected. Sure, he had got to know Guinevere much better than when they were mere juveniles, and to be frank, felt much better about marrying her than he had weeks ago. She truly was a lovely woman (as Merlin had put it) and he found himself somewhat enjoying her company in the great hall, all alone while chatting over their food- well, they were never actually alone, but Lancelot and Merlin didn't count, even when Merlin came to top up their wine. Guinevere had a gorgeous laugh and white flashing teeth, any man would surely melt at the sight...except Arthur.

Albeit, he was beginning to see a beautiful friendship blossom between them, and Arthur thought that perhaps marrying her wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, he could always use a trusted friend on the council, for who could he really trust in the midst of war? Slowly, as time went by, Arthur showed the lady a piece of his heart, he let down his walls and their words were not so forced any longer. They talked about their childhoods, horse riding and their siblings (Guinevere's being named Elyan) and how no matter the numerous of arguments and pranks they shared, they wouldn't wish for any other person to be with them in blood as siblings. Of course, Arthur didn't share how Morgana had nightmares (more often than not- even Gaius's remedies began to fail) and how it pained him to watch her in distress: had it been someone else, some commoner, Arthur wouldn't have raised an eyelid. Perhaps that made him a selfish, arrogant king- he knew it did, and yet how unashamed of that fact he is.

Morgana's heart however, was reaching a hellish darkness. The seer's powers were rising from beneath the depths as the jealousy for her brother bloomed an ugliness in her mind. Morgana had tried convincing Agravaine that she should be the one on the throne, not Guinevere and certainty not Arthur, but he would always laugh it off and tell her to 'go back to doing whatever ladies do'. The lady Guinevere seemed to see Morgana's torment in those dark eyes of hers, and sought out a friendship between them, which Morgana more than welcomed: finding some solace in Gwen's (as the lady allowed her to be called) rosy smile and fluttering eyes.

Arthur -as he walked towards his chambers, the daunting night before the wedding- was oblivious to the sprouting friendship. However, Merlin was not: he could see the friendship strengthen as days went by, the sorcerer began to think that their was more of a bond between the two woman than the king and the future queen, not that he was one to complain- but he knew something was strange about Morgana. The thought left him disturbed, as if the world itself was shaking of dysfunctional maladjustment.

Arthur entered his chambers to find a dazed Merlin half heartedly scrubbing the floor, a distracted gaze written across his face. Arthur arched an eyebrow at the kneeling man, noting how his hands were hardened now: use to the manual labour of scrubbing and scraping and brushing, as well as folding, pouring and, well, the list goes on. Merlin practically jumped out of his skin when he saw Arthur standing next to him. The sorcerer placed a hand on his chest in relief, leaning back on his heels.

“You scared me” Merlin claimed, giving Arthur a lop sided grin.

“Yeah, well, that doesn't exactly take much” The king teased, watching Merlin stand up- tidying away the brush and bucket into the private storage room, which was recently built when Merlin complained to Arthur about having to keep making trips to the other storage facility. Merlin wiped his wet hands on his trousers, turning them a dark brown where the fabric dampened. Arthur watched Merlin place clean sheets on the bed, humming a small tune in the back of his throat.

“What are you singing?” Arthur asked, taking a seat at his desk- if possible, the seat would have a dent in it as he sat there so often.

“Hmm- oh” Merlin paused before answering, his eyes darting around the room for a moment. “Something my mother used to sing to me...” Merlin admitted, his cheeks turning pink, expecting some sort of criticism from Arthur. But when none came, Merlin had to sneak a glance at the king. Arthur was staring at him intently, elbows planted firmly on the table, chin on top of his clasped hands.

“Golden Eyes. That's what its called, isn't it?” Arthur quizzed, though sure of himself.

“Yes... How did you know?” Merlin bunched his eyebrows together in confusion: he didn't think the king knew of any songs, let alone a lullaby.

“It was my mother's favourite tune, and my fathers worst” He chuckled, eyes showing the fondness of the knowledge -of the memory- of precious little gleeful moments. Merlin wanted to press on but felt it impolite, even as close as they had become. Merlin leaned against one of the posts on Arthur's bed, taking in the king's presence. Merlin knew Arthur was a complete clot-pole at the best of times, but sometimes, just sometimes, Arthur would show something resembling... human innocence, perhaps.

Merlin looked up to find Arthur rising from his chair- slowly, as if they had all the time in the world. Leisurely, Arthur came to stand before Merlin, humming the same tune the sorcerer had just sung. Merlin couldn't tell if he was being mocked, or if Arthur was being sincere, as out of character as it may seem.

When Arthur reached Merlin, the king glowed a heavenly gold, or that may have been the sun's own doing. But Merlin was caught up in those soul taking eyes, so blue- like the bluebells Merlin had spotted the other day. So alone among the weeds they were, captivating to any wondering gaze. Merlin's breath hitched as he felt Arthur's own warmth on his face. The king's mouth mere inches away from the sorcerer's, as he placed a hand on Merlin's waist: holding him carefully, as if could fall at any moment- which was quite feasible.

Merlin felt heat rise in his cheeks: Arthur was just staring at him, as if he was silently interrogating him, in an affectionate way... if possible. Merlin let out a quiet gasp when Arthur's cold hand reached under his shirt, falling still at the small of Merlin's back. Detaining him closer, Arthur placed his lips upon Merlin's, short and sweet. As one would do when saying farewell to a lover. However, this wasn't goodbye, far from it, it was more closer to the beginning. As Arthur pulled back, Merlin licked his own lips, more out of habit than feeling the evaporating warmth where Arthur's mouth was. Before anything could be said, Arthur began placing slow pecks along Merlin's mouth, feeling the silkiness of his lips consume his mind, allowing thoughts of war to evaporate from existence.

The could have stayed like that for hours, finding peace in each other's soft touch and delicate embrace- and they did. As much as it pained Merlin to somewhat betray Guinevere, neither were married and its not as if he really knew her, and yet, he still felt some guilt (though very petite).

Merlin let out a small moan when Arthur slipped his other hand up onto the bare skin of Merlin's stomach, feeling the small, dark hairs around his navel with the tips of his fingers: wanting to feel every small detail of Merlin's existence, he simply couldn't help himself. Merlin gulped, his breath heavy as Arthur continued to place sweet kisses upon Merlin's pale face. Along Merlin's jawline, his neck, feeling the sorcerer's throat under his blushing lips. Merlin let out a small groan, his own hands fisting the fine golden hairs on the back of Arthur's head.

The king drew their bodies closer, pressing forward to accommodate the velvet bed, tugging off items of clothing as they went amongst the smooth covers. Merlin pressed his body against Arthur's, straddling his hips while the sheets draped over his thin shoulders, kissing under the cover of ignorant servants- Arthur was glad for no one ever disturbing him- them. Heavy sighs and quietened moans filled the room as the sun scattered, giving way for the twilight. Until dawn.


	34. Chapter 34

A pang of fear awoke Arthur from his slumber. Removing his draping form from Merlin's grasp, Arthur gave an incoherent sigh into the morning mist which was visible from the arched window. Early dewdrops of icy water framed the walls of Camelot, chilling the air- though the sun eventually began to break through the white clouds. Rays of light filled the room, causing Merlin to stir. The sorcerer turned onto his side, watching Arthur stare out the window, the light glistening on his naked skin. Merlin opened his mouth to say something when Arthur caught his gaze. Merlin closed his mouth as their eyes held, so unsure of the world around them, and yet so certain of it all.

Merlin slithered out of the bed, picking up his clothing from the floor to slip them on before helping Arthur into his own clothes: his armour, long red cloak and of course, Excalibur. Neither decided to say anything, but each could see the pain in the other's eyes- silent torture...but fate wouldn't have it any other way.

In a matter of an hour (perhaps less) the King would be married: Camelot would have a queen once more. Everyone would watch, listen, oblivious to the true nature of the marriage. Towns folk believing love conquers all, for why else would Arthur marry but for love? Ignorant fools indeed- too innocent for reality. Arthur found himself envying them, and yet how pleased he is to have a kingdom. To rule far stretched cities and hills; crops, fields and gravel. To rule people: with a mere nod he could sentence a man to death, just for looking at the King strangely; he could... _would_  command an army into battle. So much power...It was laughable.

Arthur bowed his head as Merlin placed his crown upon his head, the metal catching the light like fire flies. Merlin looked upon Arthur's face,blue eyes catching a hold of the other dark pools. Merlin leant closer to Arthur, slow and steady, carefully placing a delicate kiss onto his lips. Before long, they broke apart and started towards the great hall. King and servant walking side by side along the nonchalant corridors- almost as equals, and yet not quite so. Arthur took his place in front of his throne, taking in the confident faces of his knights and knowing looks of the courtiers, and of course, Merlin's indented cheeks and puffy lips (swollen from the night's events) as he stood next to Gaius, talking quietly with the physician. Morgana wore a dark purple dress as she came to stand next to Agravaine, an actual smile on her face and sadness in her eyes: the darkness gone for a moment. Though when Agravaine muttered something in her ear that scowl of hers returned, eventually being replaced with a fake grin to keep up appearances.

It wasn't long before the heavy doors opened, revealing a blissful Guinevere. Pink flowers were embedded into her curls as well as the velvet red dress she wore, with gold lacing embroiled along the edges of the long sleeves and the bottom of the draping dress as well as the front. She wore a smile, pure of heart, lips pink and glossy. Her eyes practically sparkled, her stance confident, yet faltering at the shoulders as she played with the fabric within her hands, ensuring that she doesn't trip over the dress as she walked up the aisle formed by bodies.

She came to stand beside Arthur, in front of a second throne which she would find herself sitting on many a time during the future. Merlin watched closely as the priest came up to Guinevere, who knelt onto the floor, bowing her head to the crowd.

“Do you, Guinevere Smith, vow to protect and serve the kingdom, anyway you can?” The priest asked, his voice hoarse: old.

“I do” She answered, voice certain.

“And do you vow, to serve your king, Arthur Pendragon? Do you swear to serve, advise and share the bond between a king and it's people?”

“I solemnly swear so to do”

“And do you, Guinevere, vow to pledge allegiance to Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, as a wife as much as a queen”

“I do”

Turning the Arthur, the priest asked “And do you, Arthur, vow to pledge allegiance to Guinevere Smith, as a husband as much as a king?”

Arthur gave a nod: “I do”

“Then, by the power vested in me” the priest began, pausing just a moment to hang a large silver, jewel encrusted crown above her head, then continuing, placing the crown upon Guinevere as he spoke “I crown you Guinevere Pendragon, Queen of Camelot”

A loud applause from the crowd erupted as the king and queen joined hands, raising them in the air triumphantly, smiling at the pleased faces. Arthur caught Merlin's gaze as much as Guinevere caught Lancelot's, as well as Morgana's smile. A small exchange of rings and it was over. It was the proper thing to do: marriage.

 

Arthur and Guinevere made their way over to the stone balcony, hands still joined as they walked to face the many citizens that had gathered in the courtyard. Silver rings glimmering. When they showed their newly-wed faces, the people cheered 'Long live the King. Long live the Queen' like the loyal citizens they were, oblivious to the fast beating hearts and cold sweats of the royals.

That night there was a grand feast. Indeed there seemed to be many feasts occurring, but there was much to celebrate: and in future they may not get the chance. And so, the knights got drunk from the gallons of mead as the sun disappeared behind the hills. Jesters threw balls of flames while women giggled out of sincere delight. Arthur would have had a great time, if he didn't have a dark pit of dread at the bottom of his stomach. He found some comfort in the thought that Guinevere was a beautiful woman, a perfect match, and...a friend.

Merlin filled their cups with more wine, a painful smile plastered on his face. Guinevere seemed unaware of how the king's and his servant's fingers brushed, and the small glances they gave each other over the course of the night. After some time, Guinevere admitted that she was tired, and longed for sleep. Arthur gave a curt nod and stood, taking her hand in his to help her to stand. Arthur's eyes met Merlin's, and with a knowing bow of the head Merlin led them to the old king's chambers (much larger than Arthur's) and said nothing, closing the door behind Arthur and Guinevere, not daring to step foot in the room.

Arthur heard Merlin's foot steps fade away as the sorcerer returned to his own bed for the night, most likely having to get through one of Gaius talks on anatomy or some remedy before actually finding sleep. Arthur took a sharp intake of breath as Guinevere began to strip into her under garments to rest in. The king turned away, a blush on his cheeks: she was attractive, of course, but that wasn't the reason for his blood warming- he was embarrassed. Arthur recalled all the other times he saw a woman in such a manner, and how satisfying it had been to him then. But now, after having slept -more than once- with his manservant, he felt at odds with himself.

Arthur was glad when Guinevere merely moved under the covers, and proceeded to close her eyes, any expectations of him seemed to fade away as Guinevere fell into a deep slumber. He was relieved when he got himself into bed (armour finally removed by his own hands) and settled into a daze similar to sleep. He slept easy that night, not as easily as when it was Merlin's body next to him, but yes, he slept easy.


	35. Chapter 35

A solid month had gone by. A solid month of Arthur training his knights and sleeping next to the woman he was wed to. A solid month of small nods betwixt the king and his manservant; a solid month of silence between the two longing hearts.

Arthur and Guinevere had become somewhat closer now: before parting, Arthur would peck her cheek, or Guinevere would his. If anything but for keeping up appearances. Neither mentioned the fact that they hadn't consummated their marriage, or how their was a strange tension in the air whenever Merlin strolled in to scrub the floor or with dinner. No comments about Guinevere riding out with Morgana (Lancelot right behind) while Arthur practised his archery, were made. It was as if they had a private agreement to follow not only what was expected of them, but to keep to themselves also.

Arthur was a man of honour and pride: and no matter how many times he wanted to push Merlin up against the wall, or onto the bed to make sweet love to him...he didn't. Arthur couldn't betray his vows like that, he had that much virtue about him if anything. He was a man of his word and sword, the only things guiding him promises and victory.

The early evening sky sent a warm wind upon Arthur's skin, it was the perfect time for training, the sun not being a distraction for the knights. Arthur allowed Merlin to sharpen Excalibur, turning towards a cross bow to practice before continuing to defeat his knights –who were currently bashing around the field like flailing piranhas- in combat. However, before Arthur could even pick up one of the iron arrows, one of Camelot's scouts came sauntering up to Arthur, breathless and a sick look on his face. Arthur furrowed his eyebrows as the thin man reached him.

“What is it, Ewan?” Arthur asked, lowing his weapon.

“Sire, its-” He paused, taking a deep breath “I came as quickly as I could, I-”

“Spit it out, come on”

“Cenred's army, its on the move!” Ewan exclaimed, causing some of the exhausted knights to pause and turn their attention to the king.

“His army?” Arthur thought for a moment, clearing his mind, calming his heart “How long until they approach us?”

“I expect two weeks at most, sire, it seems they have moved to gather more weapons, or perhaps they are scouting the area...I didn't stay to check” Ewan stuttered, the scout's voice faltering from fear.

Even though Ewan's cries were quick, rushed, Arthur knew that they had time. However, decisions had to be made, urgently. Arthur rotated to his knights, acknowledging their sweat beaded hair and broken breaths.

“The war is upon us. Though we have time still” Arthur told them, nodding as if in agreement with himself. “We will hold a meeting tomorrow morning to settle arrangements, and within the week, we will set off. Or we will fortify the castle, we will decide which at the meeting. For now, rest. Prepare yourselves, we have a busy week ahead” Arthur ordered. The knights nodded in unison and gathered their things to return to their chambers for the night.

Arthur motioned for Merlin to follow him after dismissing the scout. Merlin returned Excalibur to Arthur's grip before grabbing his satchel. Arthur sighed as they walked down the corridors, suddenly colder than a moment ago. Merlin asked what they were to do but Arthur didn't reply, keeping his head high as to not cause suspicion from the maids. This was a matter for noble blood to deal with, not servants, even if one of them was Merlin.

Arthur slowed when they reached the long corridor leading to the royal chambers, about so say something when he heard muffled moans. The type of moans that often came from Merlin's mouth when they tried to be quiet under the velvet sheets. Arthur and Merlin's eyes met in confusion, deciding to walk faster towards the wooden doors, the grunts and moans getting louder the closer they got. Arthur practically sprang through the door, the wood banging against the wall in brute haste. Arthur's eyes widened as his eyes furrowed at the sight before him, mouth gaping. Merlin gasped behind him, hands over his mouth in shock.

Before him lay a sprawled out, bare caramel skinned Guinevere, with a just as naked Lancelot between her hitched legs. A velvet sheet narrowly hung onto Lancelot's hips- barely containing any remaining modesty or fading dignity of either flushing body. Guinevere let out a distorted scream of 'Arthur, you're back early' or 'Arthur, what're you doing here', but the king didn't quite catch it, too let up in the bubbling storm growing ferociously inside him. All Arthur could think of was betrayal. Guinevere had broken her vow and made a fool of the king.  _How dare she! How_ could _she!_

Lancelot made a move to utter some response but before he could let out a simple 'Arthur', the king had took a hold of Excalibur, letting out some torrid war cry as he dashed toward the knight, silver blade like a shark in the air. Lancelot swerved off the bed, grabbing at his own sword on the side as the sheets twisted around his legs. Guinevere shrieked at the two men as she watched their swords clanking together like a tidal wave smacking against the shore in constant, rugged beats.

Merlin tried calling Arthur's name, tried telling him to stop as the king hovered high above the knight who lay against the wall, sword doing its best to fend off his attacker. Lancelot gritted his teeth, muscles shaking in his arms: he was going to lose his grip.

In that moment, Guinevere let out a terrified screech as Lancelot's hand gave way, the heavy metal landing on the floor with a clang- he was never any match for Arthur. The king pulled back, watching the man before him beg for his life- with silent eyes, for what knight would plead for his heart to carry on beating? Arthur heard Merlin say his name, over and over, but it was a mere echo within his mind. He had already made his decision.

Lancelot slumped down the stone, his mouth agape as he wished for words to leave them, but nothing could come forth. At least he could keep his pride: it could be said that he didn't beg for his life, that he was a true nobleman. Every sound in the room seemed to evaporate into nothing as Arthur drew up his sword. With a painful cry breaking from Guinevere's lips and a sorrowful shout from Merlin, Excalibur broke through the gap between Lancelot's rib cage, penetrating the heart in one swift movement. Lancelot gasped, blood pouring from his chest as his heart beat frantically around the metal iron, and all of a sudden, stilled. Droplets of thick blood edged out the side of the knight's mouth, as his eyes misted over in a cloud of death...

 

Arthur stood straight, panting, sword still embedded in Lancelot's chest. Arthur turned his head to find Guinevere wrapped in a sheet, sobbing hysterically into the crook of Merlin's neck. The sorcerer's face showed little emotion- he was contemplating Arthur's actions: he thought the king had changed, that he had changed him...Merlin was wrong. What emotion made its way into his expression were that of sorrowfulness, resentment...and fear. 

Two guards which Merlin had found in the midst of the attack were standing in front of the wooden doors, eyes just as wide as Arthur's had been as they took in the situation. Arthur scowled, he had done nothing wrong. Lancelot would have been trialled and killed on punishment for bedding with a married queen, Arthur's wife. The king just took it in his own hands to fulfil the retribution. But was love a crime? No, but unfaithfulness is. And Arthur found it far more satisfying seeing the light fade from Lancelot's eyes from his own bidding, rather from the chopping block.

Arthur sighed, face neutralising- calming. But now he had to deal with a manic Guinevere, who was limp in Merlin's arms, though cries still left her mouth. Arthur motioned for the guards.

“Take her away”

“Sir?” One of the guards spoke, speech wavering.

“The cells. Go”

“Sire” The guard nodded, exchanging guilty looks with the other guard. Merlin let Guinevere go when the guards were close enough. The queen fell in a heap to the floor, which she clutched at with dry hands. Arthur turned his back, but not before he saw Guinevere's tear streaming face and red eyes. A few moments later more guards stepped in to remove the bloody body, none of them daring to make a sound, not even a whisper. Arthur plucked up the courage to glance at Merlin, he was disappointed in the king, Arthur could see that. But a servant could never understand. Both parties knew that all too well.

“What are you going to do with Guinevere?” Merlin asked, his voice hoarse, as if he had been the one crying, but Arthur knew him too well- the man was trying not to scream. What Arthur didn't know was that the picture of Balinor's bloody body was consuming Merlin's thoughts, bringing back ancient memories.

Arthur didn't reply to his question, it had an obvious answer: Arthur couldn't kill her, not being who she was. No, but she would serve a life time imprisonment. As long as he is king, she could rot in that cell, starve, cry, howl, he wouldn't mind, and he would ensure none of the guards would either.

“Come on, we have a war to prepare for” When the words finally left Arthur's lips, they were monotonous, uncaring, as he walked away from the blood encased pool on the floor, Excalibur drowning in it, leaving Merlin gaping after him. A moment went by, and then Merlin's legs moved as well, following the hollow King.


	36. Chapter 36

Merlin watched Arthur march down the corridor to his once and now present chambers, as if he hadn't just murdered someone and sent his wife to the jail cells. Where was the remorse? Well, you would have a  _very_ hard time trying to find it, for there is none to be found. A thousand thoughts rattled through Merlin's head- as if the sorcerer could still love the man, and hate him to the core with rational sense. How could it be? A strange time to be in, indeed.

Arthur took a seat at his desk, never lowing his proud demeanour. Merlin watched him from afar as dark shadows cast their touch on the king's face, blackening the features Merlin loved. Still Loves.

How could Merlin even bare his presence, and yet crave it so much?

When Arthur began making gloomy notes over battle plans, Merlin took the time to ready Arthur's bed (as quietly as possible), settling his night clothes by the side for whenever the king decided that he needed sleep. Merlin clenched his jaw tight, taking a glance at the pouring rain, some of the droplets had sneaked in through the sides of the windows, dampening the frame work.

“Will there be anything else you require, my lord?” Merlin asked, voice unsure, hands held together behind his back.

“No” Arthur replied, tapping the quill to the end of his mouth in thought.

Merlin gave a respectful nod, and made his way out. The sorcerer noticed the king watching him leave through an armoured plate on the wall. But at no point did Merlin turn to meet his gaze...

 

Gaius studied Merlin swirling his carrot and herb soup around in the wooden bowl, never actually lifting the spoon to taste it. The food was almost cold, and Merlin's face showed no emotion. Gaius furrowed his brow, taking a sip of his own soup.

“What's the matter boy?”

Merlin looked up from his food at the sound of the physician's voice, stilling his hand in mid-stir.

“Nothing. Why would you ask?” Merlin lied, eyes moving back and forth from Gaius and his own soup.

“Because you haven't touched your food...Did something, happen?” Gaius quizzed, trying his best to pry some information from the sorcerer's tongue.

“Nothing that you won't find out about tomorrow” Merlin admitted, knowing all too well the type of gossip that travelled around Camelot faster than a crack of thunder. Merlin didn't like to be the one spreading rumours anyway, no matter how very real they are. Perhaps in due time things would be different, but not tonight.

Gaius nodded in understanding, though still suspicious of recent events. The physician didn't have the time to dwell on such matters: he has much to prepare for. The war would have causalities, and many of them, it was essential that Gaius remains focused. His goal only attaining knowledge to help the soon to be wounded, or dead- diseases were likely to spread throughout the course of the war, no matter where the battle lay.

 

When the sun decided to show its glimmering touch once more that following morning, Arthur and his main knights had gathered within the great hall. Their many bodies enveloping the enormous round table in their mass as they discuss where to have battle.

“Surely we should haul up in the castle! Camelot is impregnable!” One knight claimed, throwing his fist against the table for emphasis. Arthur didn't even blink in his seat, elbows on the table in thought with hands clasped.

“What about the citizens? Protecting them should be our priority- we should meet them half way”

“I agree! Somewhere we will have the advantage...”

Merlin listened intently as the knights rambled and contradicted each other, never fully establishing foundations for a plan. Merlin thought over all the questions they posed to one another from the back of the room- farther from Arthur's side, though the king didn't seem to notice, too caught up in his own agonizing thoughts.

“Merlin, what do you think?”

Merlin startled back to reality at the sound of Arthur's voice beckoning him forward.

“M-me?” Merlin stuttered, stepping to the king's side at the table where Leon moved to accompany him at the stone slab.

“Yes you, are you not Merlin?”

“No, I mean yes- I mean-uhh”

“Just tell us your thoughts. You know the land, you have been on many a trip with me, you know of battle, you've been listening in court for a long time and you know the people” Arthur explained.

Merlin wasn't too sure about that, but none the less he took a moment to reply.

“I don't think we should barricade Camelot” Merlin admitted. Some of the knights shook their heads while others nodded in agreement.

“And why is that?” One of the knights asked, a toughness to his tone.

“If it were just Camelot's and Cenred's army, then barricading would be the best option. But, we must not forget the druids...It would be uncontrollable mayhem, and no doubt the druids would use magic to break in, leaving us defenceless against Cenred's army” More of the knights seemed to agree with this, and Merlin carried on. “No, we must take the battle somewhere we will have the upper hand...There is a place that I passed through on my way here...”

“What's it called?” Arthur asked, looking up at Merlin with those eye's the sorcerer could lose himself in.

“Um, well, I'm not sure...” Merlin looked down at the tables as annoyed moans were emitted from noble mouths. “But, there is a large hill on one side, our side, and then there is a much smaller hill on the other where Cenred's army would come from. Between the hills is an enormous path which follows from the woods, most likely where the druids will appear-”

“Camlann” a voice interrupted, knowing of the place Merlin speaks of. All heads turned to look at the body which had entered the hall, guards attempting to catch him.

“Gwaine!” Merlin beamed, surprised to see the man come out of hiding. Clearly he didn't see Arthur as a threat anymore, though he still kept his son hidden somewhere within the castle grounds.

Arthur gestured his hand for the guards to let go and (reluctantly) left the once thief to talk over their plan with the nobles, and servant.

“What are you doing here?” Arthur asked, ignoring the strange looks their knights were giving the man.

“I came to help you fight in this brutal war” Gwaine beamed, somehow happy at the idea of battle without being drunk.

“You have a-” Arthur began but Gwaine interrupted him.

“I believe you, and this kingdom is worth fighting for. My child is safe, but if we don't win this war, we will all be in danger...Anyhow...” Gwaine fumbled with his thumbs, eyebrows furrowing. “I'm good with a sword” He smiled, albeit it was more like a smirk. The knights seemed satisfied with the man's proposition, and continued with the plan, even though Gwaine's true purpose was revenge.

Merlin noticed a healthier glow to the man than when they first met. Merlin found himself smiling, Arthur did that, Arthur helped him. So much hope filled Merlin, but quickly dispersed as he realised how long ago that action was, and how just yesterday, Arthur killed a man in (almost) cold blood. Things were different now. Everything was different.

Albeit Merlin was no longer a boy, and Arthur no longer a prince. Merlin was no longer the uncontrolled sorcerer- due to the many early mornings and late nights he managed to spend with Gaius learning new, even more powerful spells. Arthur was no longer a lone devil, he was a leader, a king, a warrior. Despite their differences and ever growing and changing minds, they had both developed and become accustomed to the deadly and crestfallen events that have been bestowed upon them in time, along with matters of passion, and some sort of affection- love? Each circumstance made its mark, ones that wouldn't fade with the rising and falling of the sun. It had changed them both, for better or worse, it was hard to tell.

“I know of it, Camlann. Settling ourselves on the large hill would give us an advantage. Though we are small in numbers, we are great fighters, and Cenred would have no chance against us!” Leon exclaimed, a smile on his face: he had hope.

“What about the druids? I've heard rumours of them joining the fight...” Gwaine asked, though sure of the answer he would get.

“We can deal with the druids” Arthur replied, a fierce tone to his voice.

“Can we?” Gwaine questioned. Arthur glared at the man who dared to question his judgement.

“We can.”


	37. Chapter 37

"Time is up, the war is upon us” Arthur spoke to his knights, who had gathered within the courtyard, the crowd broke into the streets surrounding it, leaning closer to hear the king's words. “We have trained for so long, and now we must head to Camlann, to lie in wait, for Cenred's army marches toward us. However, we have the upper hand, do not forget that. We  _will_ win this great battle” Arthur paused, letting his words of courage sink into the minds of the silver plated men before him. “For the love of Camelot!” Arthur exclaimed from the balcony, raising Excalibur into the air.

“FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT!” The men repeated, their voices loud and rugged sounds within the echo of the citadel. “LONG LIVE THE KING! LONG LIVE THE KING!”

Merlin watched the knights cheer from the room connected to the balcony, a painful expression written across his face. When Arthur retreated back into the room, he gave Merlin a small smile and a nod, letting Merlin know it was time to pack his final belongings. Merlin returned a half hearted smile and left the king to his own devices to pack the few items they would need.

When Merlin arrived at Gaius's chambers, the old man was stood by one of his many, very old, bookcases, mumbling something incoherent to Merlin's ears. The sorcerer realised the old man was checking his stock list, for he would need a lot of, well, a lot of things.

Merlin frowned as he gathered supplies for himself which consisted of a wool blanket, a leather water pouch, slices of bread and a change of clothes. Shoving the items into his backpack, Merlin turned to find Gaius watching him, a solemn look cast into his face amongst the wrinkles.

“What ever happens Merlin, you do what is right. Nothing more and nothing less” Gaius spoke, his gaze stern: wise.

“Always...” Merlin paused, allowing a lop sided smile to grace the room before it fell with his next words. “Be prepared for causalities. If you need my help, you only need to send word for me” Merlin offered, letting the physician know that help wasn't so far away, even if Merlin would be sleeping on the hill of Camlann.

“I'll see you when you return” Gaius smiled, opening his arms to hug Merlin, who returned the embrace gladly, allowing a pat on his shoulders before they broke apart. Merlin hauled his backpack on, giving the old man one last look before heading for the door, closing the heavy wood with a soft bang that echoed in the quiet of Gaius's chambers.

When Merlin dropped by Arthur's chambers to pack the king's belongings, Arthur was no where to be seen. Realising Arthur wasn't there, Merlin collected insignificant and yet important items for the journey, Arthur's amour and sword already settled upon the king's body meant that he didn't have to worry about dragging heavy metal around the corridor. Instead, Merlin packed a change of clothes and spare pieces of cloth as well as a velvet blanket for the king. When Merlin finally fitted all of the items into another bag, the sorcerer gave out a heavy sigh.

Arthur was going to war

Merlin was going to war.

_They_  were  _all_  going to war.

 

 

The ground was a thick layer of mud beneath the hardened hooves of the horses, clopping breathlessly along the grassy path through the raindrops which had settled onto the blades, drowning and squishing tiny insects. Horseshoe tracks marked the once undisturbed hillside, revealing the dark mud and sharp stones hiding under the foliage.

The larger hill had a somewhat wide and even top, which made making camp much easier: the knights would have one less thing to complain about. Most of the men would be sleeping on the ground on makeshift mattresses (a thick blanket) and a thin blanket as a cover. Luckily, it was a warm day which brought promise of a bearable night. Arthur on the other hand, had a large tent so he need not worry about the weather. He had many a blanket laid out for him and a chest which someone else had brought along for the king, probably George: he was efficient like that. Merlin placed Arthur's bag on top of the chest, ensuring it wouldn't get wet or damaged. Merlin heard the door to the tent shift as the king walked in.

“I've sent scouts to find where Cenred's army lies, they should be back soon” Arthur explained. Merlin wasn't quite sure why he was telling him this information- perhaps Arthur had to say it aloud to believe that they would return. Merlin nodded in reply, folding his arms behind his back as he watched Arthur pace slowly around the 'room'.

Arthur opened his mouth to say something when a knight rushing in halted his words:

“The druids are here! One was spotted at the border, he says he wants to speak with you, sire” the knight spoke quickly, a frightened look cast upon his slim face. Arthur furrowed his brows, the last thing he wanted was to speak to a druid, he had no reason to converse with them. Arthur let out a sigh and followed the knight, Merlin at his heels.

The druid stood at the bottom of the hill, blue cloak draped over his body, the hood however clung close to his head, shadowing his face. Arthur and a few of the knights stopped ten feet away from the druid, drawing their swords as they halted. Merlin stood behind them, watching intently.

“I am king Arthur Pendragon. Who are you?” Arthur spoke, his voice a deadly darkness in the light of the day.

“My name is not important. Only the message I bring” The druid answered, his tone simple and unwavering.

“What is it?”

“It is from Kilgharrah.” The druid paused to let the information sink in, but Arthur was ignorant to the name. “He wants an alliance. We could work together, we-”

“I would never ally with any sorcerer.” Arthur cut in,

“You don't  _understand._ If you do not agree to join us, then we will have to fight against you-”

“That is not something I am concerned with” Arthur explained, a smirk forming. Merlin was sure the druid would be frowning if he could see his face.

“At least consider talking to Kilgh-”

“No. There will be  _no_ alliance. I have made up my mind, which no bloody sorcerer could change” Arthur snapped, folding his arms defiantly.

Everything was quiet for a moment, until the druid whispered 'fine' and walked away with a silent and lethal demeanour. But not before the druid's eyes met Merlin's and the young sorcerer felt his soul burn into unconscious fragments of the unknown. 


	38. Chapter 38

“He shouldn't have done that” Gwaine whispered to Merlin. They say beside one of the burning piles of logs as the owls hooted and the crickets wept into the night.

“Whys that?” Merlin quizzed, poking at the fire nonchalantly with one of the sticks he found.

“Because I've seen what the druids are up to...” Gwaine answered quietly, his eyes darting around the camp. “I've seen them with the children, training them for- for this war”. Gwaine's voice was a mere whisper in Merlin's ear, a contrast to the loud, obnoxious knights laughing nearby at something Leon said.

“When did you see this? Where did you see this happen, Gwaine?” Merlin hushed, eager to know.

“In the forest...”

“Where abouts?”

“I don't know...In the deeper parts...I was drunk at the time... Uhh, a few weeks ago I saw them” Gwaine admitted. Merlin rolled his blue eyes at the man.

“You know whats funny?” Gwaine asked, tilting his head, his hands warming by the flames. “I've lived in the woods for a while now, and I often came across druids and druid camps alike. But never had I seen children until that day...It was so strange, they were throwing balls of blue flames at each other...But I don't think it was for fun”

“Are you sure you weren't just halluc-”

“I'm sure. Got the burn on my arm to prove it” Gwaine gave a small smile at that, gently touching his forearm with his hand, feeling the distorted skin through the fabric of his shirt. In the distance Merlin noticed the scouts return to Arthur chambers- to give the news of Cenred's army resting half a day's walk from the hillside.

“We should get some sleep” Gwaine lectured, getting up to lay on his 'bed'. Merlin nodded, turning towards Arthur's chambers as the scouts reappeared. Merlin stood, a dry leaf cracking under his weight.

“I'll go see if the king needs anything” Merlin muttered, but Gwaine was far too dazed to really care. Merlin entered the tent with ease, stepping into the dark room, only lit by a single candle burning in the corner by the blankets. Arthur sat on the blankets, knees drawn up with his hands draped lazily over them. His blond hair like tiny golden serpents in the night. Merlin waited for Arthur to meet his gaze before he took a seat next to the king's warm body. The sorcerer didn't have to utter a single word to comfort the king, Arthur knew he was strong, that he was a tough king like his father. That he could do this. Merlin was just a luxury Arthur only half deserved.

 

The cracking of twigs awoke Gwaine from his slumber. He squinted into the darkness -the fires having burned out. Only a tiny piece of the orange sun broke out in the distance, the rays not reaching them yet to light the way. Gwaine stood abruptly when he saw a shadow move at the bottom of the hill: or were they shadows?

Gwaine cursed under his breath before he began shouting “DRUIDS!” to wake up the snoring knights, hauling his sword in the air as he made it to where he saw the magic-users. Many of the knights were all ready at his heels as they formed a protective circle that allowed them to see in every direction.

Merlin startled awake at the sound of Gwaine's voice, leaping clumsily to his feet. Arthur groaned and picked himself up, allowing Merlin to adjust his armour quickly before securing Excalibur in his grasp. Arthur pushed past Merlin as soon as he was satisfied with his gear, sprinting out the door to fight along side his knights against the burning flames that seemed to engulf the grass around them. Merlin saw the magic before he saw the children casting the spells. A line of young druids stood at the edge of the forest, arms held out wide as they chanted spells, allowing their elders to penetrate the camp. Merlin span to find Arthur, but luck wasn't on his side. Or was that fate playing dirty tricks again?

Merlin yelped as a spark of fire lit next to him, causing him to jump and run when the spark chased after him. But this fire was blue. Just as Gwaine had said. Perhaps he wasn't the drunken idiot Merlin thought he was. The sorcerer burst into a gap leading to the woods, landing on his back. The blue ball of fire was being hurtled right at Merlin's face, but as his eyes flashed gold, the magic weapon dispersed. Merlin took a deep breath, not realising how fast his heart thumped against his rib cage. Merlin leaned back on his elbows, his head going limp in exhaustion. He had ran a little way from the camp, but he could still feel the heat of the fire in his throat.

Emrys...

A voice hissed inside Merlin's head. Merlin snapped his neck to find Kilgharrah standing next to him, a ghostly figure within the darkness of the forest. As Merlin stared he noticed two other sorcerer's behind him, but at a safe distance from Merlin.

“Why are you doing this? What do you want with me?” Merlin asked, keeping his voice calm even when he heart skipped a beat and a droplet of sweat ran down his forehead.

“To join us, Emrys” Kilgharrah answer, his eyes two rings of gold under his hood. “You are one of us”

“You make no sense, why would I join you?” Merlin retorted. It wasn't as if he was against the druids, but they were a threat to Arthur's life, and to Camelot.

“You are a dragon lord, Emrys. Like your father before you.” Kilgharrah's voice was a hushed dagger: deadly, and yet unnervingly calm.

“My...father?” Merlin gaped, coming to stand on his own two feet.

“I am old, Emrys. I am no longer for this world. But you: you are the new king of our kind, you were always meant to be, since the birth of magic”

Merlin had nothing to say as this new information came to life. Is that why he could command magic with such ease, and from such a young age? Is that why the druids stood so far away, in fear of Merlin turning them down and casting them into oblivion with his brutal power?Merlin shook his head, bringing a hand to rub his eyes as Kilgharrah continued.

“You are the dragon lord whom shall take my place, Emrys. You have always been one of us, and you will always be as such”

Merlin shook his head harder as his hoarse voice spoke into the forest: “I have no idea about being a leader. I'm just Arthur's servant. I-”

“Then surely you must understand how a leader should act”

But before Merlin could even rush a reply, a group of knights charged into the area, heading for the druids, whom dissipated into black smoke amongst the branches of the trees. The knights paused, throwing their swords around in an attempt to find or kill the druids. Merlin took the opportunity to dash between the vegetation, making for the hillside where dire screams could be heard.

 

Merlin searched for Arthur, dodging spits of fire and other unworldly magic, almost tripping over a body as he flung himself across the plains- whether the body was a druid or knight, Merlin didn't care to glance, even if he did, he would only have seen a black crisp of flesh.

Merlin was about to call out for the king when his eye's found Arthur across the open area. Merlin ran as fast as he could to reach the king, a hand in front of his face in an attempt to block out the ever rising sun, causing Arthur to become a silver blur in the distance.

“Arthur!” the sorcerer called out. But the king didn't reply, for he was running too.


	39. Chapter 39

“Arthur!” Merlin called again, though it came out as more of an exaggerated breath than a name. As Merlin edged closer, he saw why Arthur was running: he was running toward a young druid boy with raven hair and a cloak the colour of the great seas. The druid boy's pale hands where in the air, and yet no sorcery was being emitted from those bony fingers. “NO!” Merlin yelled, a futile attempt to stop Arthur in his tracks: to make the king contemplate once again at the situation that has been thrust upon him in the bleak of war.

The boy's mouth was agape in fear, his eyes terrified as Arthur came upon him, throwing him to the jagged ground as Excalibur broke through the feeble ribs lining the boy's skinny chest, now blood ridden and pouring as the metal pulled back.

Merlin fell to his knees behind Arthur as a loud shriek of agonizing pain wept through Merlin's mind- it was the druid boy's cries ringing through every sorcerer's soul. Merlin clasped a hand over his mouth to restrain an angered sob. The druid boy's eyes found Merlin's, and then Arthur's to voice his final words.

“You will die by a sorcerer's hand...I promise...” the boy gasped, taking his last breath. Eyes burning into a silver cloud.

“Mordred!” a man's voice bawled. Arthur stood, blinking through his survival haze as a druid in his forties dashed to reach the young boy, embracing his corpse. “My boy...” The man wept into the shoulder of the still warm body. The man glared up at Arthur when he raised Excalibur. Ushering words of retreat, the two druids dispersed into smoke. Incoherent shouts came from druids around the field, and few by few they left in a powdered puff.

After the last druid disappeared, Arthur lowered Excalibur into the halt on his belt. Merlin stared at the patch of twisted grass blades where the druid boy, Mordred, had died. So young. So innocent. So. Dead. Merlin allowed his eyes to well with tears as he remembered the tortured cry of the young boy, no older than ten years of age.

Arthur breathed a heavy sigh, his breath a misty cloud in the cool morning breeze. Merlin wiped his eyes quickly with the back of his hand, turning to stand away from the king and the conflicting emotions residing in his sword. Arthur smiled in triumph: surely the druids wouldn't bother his kingdom again after this? The king opened his mouth in a wicked laugh, but his chuckle was unheard- the sounds of war cries were assembling at the other end of Camlann- Cenred's men.

The war was not over yet.

 

Arthur's smile dropped when he saw the men aligning the small hill, with more bodies boarded up behind in tight bundles. Arthur shouted to his men to reach the top of their own hillside, pushing Merlin along as he went. Merlin gasped at the sudden impact of Arthur's hand between his shoulder blades, his legs moving in time with Arthur's until he didn't need the encouragement to run to somewhat safety.

“Tend to the wounded, those who can still fight, let them” Arthur ordered Merlin when they reached the top.

“But Arth-”

“Don't worry about me” Arthur interrupted, a smile erupting, “I'm a Pendragon. I can't be killed so easily”. Although that wasn't what Merlin wanted to hear or know, he let his head fall in a nod. Arthur seemed to be satisfied with that response, for he headed away from the tents and to the front lines with his men, leaving Merlin behind like a pregnant wife: useless, except when caring for the weak, even when seemingly as weak as themselves.

Merlin entered the main tent where the wounded had been -and were still being- brought in from the battle field (those still breathing anyway). Camelot maids had made the tricky journey to help tend to the sick and wounded, but by the end of it- there would be too many to save.

 

 

Merlin had listened to the torturous screams and angered war cries for what felt like hours until they finally fell silent against the ghostly winds. Merlin made good work of fixing broken bones and bandaging small cuts (those who had deep gashes could not be saved, regardless of any medicine or booze). A frown had blessed his face the whole time, causing some of the women to give him strange looks from above the injured men, albeit it didn't bother Merlin in the slightest.

Merlin and the others waited patiently, not emitting a single sound until they heard the cheers and shouts: “For The Love Of Camelot!”

They had won. They had survived.

Merlin was beside himself, the people of Camelot would be safe, and yet what dread filled his gut. How could a cruel and ignorant king rule a kingdom of loyalty and love? How could Arthur murder one of his kind, and a child at that? Truth be it that Arthur had no idea of Merlin's... _gifts..._ but if he did know, Merlin wouldn't be kneeling next to a man with a severe sprain in his ankle. Merlin let out a painful groan as he felt Kilgharrah's words pierce him like a knife to an eye. His words were almost blinding Merlin's own thoughts and beliefs.

 

Merlin practically jumped out of his skin when a bloody hand landed on his shoulder. Merlin looked up, eyes wide to find Arthur. But, it wasn't Arthur, not the one Merlin knew before the blood shed. The man before him was soaked in blood -albeit not his own- with distant dark eyes and an unhealthy pale complexion. This was the man who's father had died too early, the man who had been betrayed by his wife and the man who had just killed dozens of men in the name of saving his unworthy kingdom.

Everything was different now. The world as they know it, broken.

 

 

 _Cursed. Yes. Arthur was indeed cursed._ Merlin thought, or perhaps it was himself that was under a wicked spell. Ironic. Merlin watched Arthur pace the room like a dog waiting for its next meal, choking against its chain. But in actually fact, Arthur was pacing the room like a man waiting for the list of dead knights, while choking on his metaphorical chain of emotion. And soon, so very soon, that chain would snap, and Arthur's feelings would have no control over the man or his decisions. At least that's what Merlin told himself as Arthur growled at every soul that dared to blink.

And how the list was long. Most of the names had been guessed, many body's were unnamed and it was hard to tell who was dead and who had fled the war like a coward. It made Arthur  _furious._ He was becoming the man the people thought his father was: a tyrant.

He couldn't even look Merlin in the eye without feeling some sort of self pity- and so he never met with those blue rings that scarred his heart.

 

 

A week had gone by, and Merlin found himself sulking his his little room like a grounded child. He kept having these  _dreams._ Dark and sorrowful voices would fill his head while he slept, the sound of weeping druids, mourning the loss of many. They never had a chance. Slice by slice, Merlin felt more of their pain. Their suffering was his own as they lectured him when his eyes shut. Merlin frowned at the wooden floor under his feet as he sat at the edge of his bed, brooding in his own horrid thoughts.

The gods had chosen him to lead the druids, to be their king. And yet... Merlin shook his head, the voices whispering echoes in his head. He needed to start making decisions to benefit his  _own_ people. Druids and sorcerers a like. But how could one be a leader when they have merely served one for the better part of their life?  _Then surely you must understand how a leader should act._ Kilgharrah's voice repeated inside Merlin's head. The sorcerer's eyes darkened when he realised that by serving Arthur, he had learnt so much about leadership: how a king should act when something or someone threatened their kingdom.

What would his father have done?. What advice was he giving Merlin while he bled out in his son's arms? Merlin began to pace the room as Arthur did in the great hall every evening. Merlin let out a sigh in frustration, rubbing his eyes, trying to get them to focus. All of a sudden, his father's words hit Merlin like an avalanche to the bottom of a mountain.

“ _Avenge me”_

 

 

Merlin entered the great hall silently- a ghost creeping around in the cold and gloomy room. Arthur sat on his throne, asleep, his cheek resting against one of his hands and his elbow dug into the armrest. Merlin walked around the edge of the large room, the silver light of the moon guiding his foot to miss the scratchy stones Merlin knew were there. Arthur looked so peaceful, even with a pained expression casting his face as he slept. It was so quiet, Merlin could hear his own unsteady breath and the high pitched scratch of pulling a blade from its casing at his belt.

“ _Avenge me”_

Merlin crept closer, uttering a silent spell to make sure the loose stone panels wouldn't bend beneath his weight- the castle was truly old. His eyes flicked gold. Small amber torches in the darkness, against the white backdrop of the moonlight pouring in from the agape window.

An uneven breath filled the room and Merlin looked up to find Arthur's gaze upon him- unfocused and depressed. Regretful perhaps in another universe, but most definitely showing the hurt of a thousand betrayals. Merlin made the final steps to Arthur and knelt beside his legs against the chair, peering up at the pale face that once displayed so much golden happiness, a long time ago it seems. Arthur didn't even move a muscle, not even to move the back of his hand away from his cheek to sit up, he merely watched Merlin and the silver sparkle of a blade in the sorcerer's hand. Merlin let his eyes swell with the beginnings of tears.

“Just say it” Arthur whispered hoarsely, so quietly Merlin had to strain to understand the words put before him. “Just do it”.

“I have magic...I am Emrys” Merlin gasped out with a sob, his hands shaking as voices began to fill his head once more. With a sharp intake of breath, Merlin brought the knife to tear through the thin fabric of Arthur white shirt, through the thick skin on Arthur chest, between the white ribs to the beating heart of the king- just as Arthur had done to Lancelot.

Arthur let out an agonized choke as the blade pierced the muscle of his heart. Merlin opened his quivering mouth to blab out some sort of explanation, when Arthur breathed broken words into the night:

“I kn-know...I...I understand” Arthur's eyes were glistening with tears as droplets of sweet tears cascaded down Merlin's own hollow cheeks.

“You killed my father” Merlin sobbed, his hand still clenched tightly around the blade, his body shaking against Arthur's thigh.

“I-I'm so-sorry”

“But you kept on killing, Arthur” Merlin bellowed, as the tears kept coming, his body convulsing into sobs as red liquid began to drench Merlin's hand. The blood stained a wide circle on Arthur pristine shirt, now soaking in his own dark liquid along with his lover's tears.

“I...know”. A tear finally made its way down Arthur's cheek as he gasped, gulping again the tight pain in his chest, slowly feeling dizzy and- “don't forget me”

“Never” Merlin whispered, choking against a sob he was trying so terribly hard to hold back. Arthur nodded, and gazed up at the far side of the room, clenching his jaw. After a moment, Arthur's eyes turned a silver-blue, as if the peace and gentleness of the moon finally resided in those beautiful, dead eyes.

 

Merlin whimpered into Arthur's leg, letting go of the blade as it clanged against the frozen, stone floor, the high pitch sound contrasting to Merlin's almost uncontrollable sobbing. When Merlin couldn't possibly shed any more tears, or perhaps when Arthur's leg became drenched in the tear's of his somewhat lover, Merlin rose. Wiping his eyes with his sleeve as he stared down at the...at Arthur, and noticed the red that was dripping onto the throne.

 

Blood. Blood on the throne of Camelot. Just as Morgana foretold.  


	40. Chapter 40

The king was dead. There was nothing more to say on the subject, not really. You may be thinking that the story ends there. But no, it does not.

The brutal witch Morgana assumed the throne, delighted in the relief that came with her brother's departure. She would be queen at last, after all this time. The darkness of her heart applauded her patience, she was in control now, but the darkness had control of her. And yet what light caressed her smile when she ordered Gwen from the dungeon, to be able to hug her friend deeply after such a long time. Gwen would be by her side from now on, perhaps the darkness would lighten ever so slightly, even just slightly.

But Morgana wasn't fit to be Queen, she was far more cruel and disgusting that anyone could have ever imagined from such a beautiful woman. She hated sorcery just as much as any Pendragon had, perhaps more, and became jealous of anyone with gifts, for she could no longer see a future coming to pass.

Merlin -with Gaius close behind- travelled to the homeland of the druids where Merlin took on the role of Kilgharrah, and led the druids to fight for peace against the wretched Morgana. It was many years until finally, they succeed and the lands fell into a peaceful state after many, many years of living in hellish fear.

There was no ruler of Camelot anymore.

Peace. At last, within the ruins of Camelot. Sorcerers gathered far and wide to join Merlin and the druids there, for there was no ruler to scorn them. Merlin began to spin tales, just as others had done to make people think differently of Uther, by telling elaborate stories around the camp-fires day and night.

The only memory of the true story rests in Excalibur, which Merlin had perished into a rock deep within the woods, where Arthur's body lay a disintegrated mess beneath it. Merlin never saw Gwaine again- whether he had fled the fight (like a coward, it was doubtable) or was the body Merlin stumbled upon near the edge of the woods (perhaps in an attempt to save Merlin when he himself had fled to the woods by the ball of fire) it wasn't known.

 

You've all heard the story: how Arthur Pendragon, son of the tyrant King Uther, vanquished all in his path with the aid of his fellow knights. How Merlin, a young sorcerer, born with magic, helped the young king achieve great things. How Merlin served Arthur, and how they formed an unbreakable bond. How their friendship was so strong, that they were unbeatable. You've probably also heard how Arthur married the love of his life: a lonely black smith's daughter named Guinevere. And how you must of heard of Arthur's corrupted sister, Morgana, and the terror in which consumed her. And of course, Arthur's end: the druid boy Mordred.

Oh the wonderful tale Merlin spun through the ages.

But now you know: Arthur never truly vanquished anything, he merely survived each brutal day as he was bombarded with betrayal and death. Guinevere was not a black smith's daughter, but a princess, a queen. She was not the love of Arthur's life, but a tie to ensure an alliance and the safety of the now deceased kingdom. Morgana was corrupt, but perhaps not completely. There was a light inside her that Guinevere put there with a smile, even when Morgana's jealously consumed her and the terror grew, there would always be something human in Morgana's eyes. The druid boy, Mordred, was not Arthur's end, Arthur was his.

Merlin was indeed a sorcerer, but he helped Arthur survive, to achieve terrible things, not great. They were not unbeatable. They didn't have an unbreakable bond. They were not friends, but dark lovers in the midst of war and decay.

I was Arthur's end. I am Emrys.

 

-The End-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read this story from the beginning, even being patient in waiting for me to upload the next chapter after a cliff hanger etc It is much appreciated and I hope you enjoyed the story. This is my first time writing a story in years & I've ever finished writing. So thank you :)

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know what you think :)


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